


The Whispering of Secrets

by Echos_of_Blue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But Harry doesn't understand that, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Powerful Harry Potter, Revelations, Slow Burn, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, one-sided relationship at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echos_of_Blue/pseuds/Echos_of_Blue
Summary: Secrets tend to whisper. In the depths of the mind, they stay together, whispering and mingling with one another. They whisper through words, through actions, through looks... with every secret added, the whispers get louder and louder. Because that's the thing about secrets - they want to be heard. Even when mouths don't want to speak them and when ears don't want to hear them.Harry Potter was at his limit of secrets. Their whispers had grown too loud to keep hidden under lies and crafted smiles.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 201





	1. Changing Times and Troubled Tides

** The Whispering of Secrets **

**Author’s note:** Okay! So, I know a  _ lot _ of these stories have been written, but I wanted to try my hand at it! Please forgive any details I’ve gotten wrong or anyone who might be out of character - it’s been just under a decade since I’ve read this amazing series. Let me know if it’s worthy of continuing! Enjoy. 

**Chapter One:** Changing Times and Troubled Tides 

~0~0~0~0~

“Severus?” 

“Yes?” 

“You seem distracted,” Narcissa smiled. The witch was dressed down from her normal, elegant attire. She was clad in a long nightshirt and silky pants. Although her ‘dressed down’ attire was likely more expensive than most people would spend on their entire wardrobe. “Now, did Draco need  _ another _ potions set?” 

Severus saw her husband shake his head slightly. Lucius was reading, a cup of tea in one hand, but still listening to the conversation. How has he been friends with these people for years without imparting the importance of proper potion-making equipment? You could do everything right in a brewing and still fail if you had the wrong size cauldron. 

“Of course,” Severus said. “Fifth-year potions require a much higher level of precision.” 

“That’s what you said about fourth-year potions,” Lucius pointed out. 

“It was true then, and it is true now,” Severus glared at the both of him. “I don’t just hand him his grade because he’s my Godson.” 

“Of course, of course,” Narcissa rolled her eyes. It was a gesture that not many got to see from a Malfoy. But to them, Severus was family - the rare and only exception to the carefully crafted social and political mask both the lawyers had perfected. “But wouldn’t the fifth year set we  _ already _ bought him have been enough?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Severus huffed. “Hogwarts recommends lower than the  _ bare _ minimum for correct potion brewing.” 

It was true, mostly. The recommended set would get  _ most _ students through his class, but it always held them back from truly excelling. It was the reason his snakes always did so well - he always sent a letter to their parents suggesting they buy the  _ proper _ material. 

Narcissa wisely let it go. She knew she wouldn’t win this discussion she’s been having with him for the past five years. Severus watched her eyes shift with the conversation. Even though she had learned to keep it under lock and key, Veela’s were always gifted with expressive eyes. 

“I’m sorry to hear that the Y.M.P.O passed,” Narcissa said, her gaze trailing to her husband. She brushed a few strains of light hair from her face. “Lucius just told me today.” 

“Yes,” Severus replied, pointedly setting his teacup down. “These politicians have obviously never been around actual children.” 

“I did everything I could from my position,” Lucius added. Severus could hear the frustration in his voice. 

The Y.M.P.O, or the Young Magicians Privacy Order, was a ministry order that Lucius had been lobbying to block for over a year. The order made it illegal for a certified healer to cast a full diagnostic spell on any witch or wizard over the age of eleven without parental consent - even if abuse was suspected. It was a clear power grab against Hogwarts, as the age of attendance reflected. Without that chip, healers would have their hands tied with abused children who didn’t come forward themselves - which, unfortunately, was many of them. Which Severus should know - he had been one of them after all. 

It was much easier when you had knowledge of specifics, and it helped the child immensely. He could ask them ‘how did your wrist break when you were eight?’ instead of ‘has anyone ever hurt you at any time?’. Children respond so much better to specifics, especially if they think the adult already knows. That way, they don’t ‘betray’ their parents and they can still get help. 

“I know you tried, Lucius,” he said. “I appreciate the effort.” 

“You’ve helped a lot of children, Severus,” Narcissa said kindly. “The lengths you’ve gone for your snakes, and even others, might not be recognized by the blasted government, but it will always be to those little ones.” 

Severus nodded. A depressing number of abused children were sorted into Slytherin. Abuse tended to guide children to his house’s traits - sneakiness, planning, caution, ambition. It was why he required a medical screening for all his new snakes. Even Draco, who knew what his Godfather did long before he was eleven, and complained about it the entire time. Of course Draco was completely fine, but he didn’t allow for exceptions, even from his closest friends. He knew Lucius and Narcissa were anything but offended. 

“I’ll figure something out,” Severus promised, conviction in his voice. “Hogwarts will never see another Morgan Lewis.” 

Severus had dropped her name like broken ice that shattered around the room. Severus didn’t talk about what he regarded as one of his own greatest failures often. But the Malfoys knew the case better than anyone. It was a gruesome story that most were happy to forget.

Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, as if a cold wind had picked up. 

“I still don’t understand how…” Lucius stood up and walked a pace away before turning. “How no one was  _ fired _ . No charges pressed. No one would press them.” 

“Father?” 

Lucius spun around again, this time to face his son. The child was standing there with his arms crossed and a rather disgruntled look across his face. Severus raised an eyebrow. Draco’s hair was free from the massive amounts of gel he insisted on during the day, making it look fluffy and unintentionally making Draco appear quite a few years younger. 

“Yes, Dragon?” Lucius worked hard to keep the frustration at the previous conversation away from his voice and face as he addressed his son. 

“Lopsy won’t stop  _ singing  _ to me,” Draco complained. “Every time I order her to stop, she finds a way to circumvent it.” 

Narcissa smiled. “She’s new, Draco, and excited to be bound to a house with a child.” 

“I’m not a child,” Draco said indignantly. “Mother, it’s  _ four days _ until school starts and I should not be awake right now.” 

Severus couldn’t help to find the situation amusing. The Malfoy’s new house-elf, Lopsy, had been ecstatic when she caught sight of Draco. In her enthusiasm, she might have been treating Draco a little younger than he actually was, but Draco usually put up with it fine. It appears he drew the line at his sleep. That child was religious about his sleep schedule. 

With Ms. Lewis fresh on his mind, he couldn’t help but see her face on Draco. 

She had only been a year older than his Godson. Only sixteen years of life to guide her. She had asked - pleaded - for help, but never received it. She was Hogwarts greatest shame that few knew about and even fewer spoke about. He wondered what - if Draco had been in her - would anyone have…? No, Severus stopped his thinking. At the moment, he didn’t need to dwell on her - he just needed to figure out how to ensure her story would  _ never _ be repeated. 

~0~0~0~0~

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you gave them the slip, mate,” Ron was practically bouncing in his seat. “I mean, you’ve been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for two whole weeks? By yourself?” 

“Well go ahead and inform the whole train, won’t you?” Hermione chastised. “That was irresponsible, Harry.” 

Harry nodded, although he wanted to say that staying with the Dursleys was  _ far _ less responsible. “I know, ‘Mione. I just couldn’t take it there anymore. I stayed long enough to satisfy the blood wards.” 

“That’s something,” she caved. “I just think about what might’ve happened if You-Know-Who figured out where you were.” 

“Nothing happened,” Ron argued. “It was bloody brilliant anyway. I mean, c’mon Hermione, you know that pouring Speak-Me-Not on his shoes was clever.” 

“It was clever,” Hermione admitted. “But still -” 

Harry sat back and listened to his friends argue if his cleverness outweighed his responsibleness. Of course, they were just arguing over his lie. There had never been any Speak-Me-Not and there had never been any convenient Night Bus in his escape. He ignored the deep ache that settled throughout his shoulder and tried to figure out if he was clever enough to avoid going back to the Dursley’s next summer. 

He had the year to figure it out. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. He’d live on the streets of London before he would step foot back in that house. 

“Harry?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I asked if you were excited?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “About Professor Lupin?” 

Harry nodded eagerly, sitting up again to rejoin the conversation. “I couldn’t believe it.” 

“Neither could I,” the girl admitted. “I thought parents would’ve put up a much bigger fit about a werewolf teaching - not that I  _ agree _ , Harry - it’s just that it’s odd.” 

“I heard Dumbledore went up to bat for him somethin’ fierce,” Ron said. “Dad said everyone in the building could hear him going off about how Lupin’s the only  _ decent _ DADA Professor we’ve had.” 

“It makes sense they’d listen to the Headmaster,” Hermione reasoned. “It’s not like he’s wrong anyway. At least we’ll learn material worth knowing with Professor Lupin.” 

Harry couldn’t help but agree with them. Having Professor Lupin back was the best news he had heard all year. He wondered if Professor Lupin being there would help or hinder whatever plan he came up with. Because if there were two people in the world that Harry would’ve done anything to keep his homelife from, it was Remus and Sirius. They were - he considered - the last family he had left. 

He would not taint their relationship with him by bringing up the Dursleys. He wouldn’t show them just how weak the great Harry Potter was. 

~0~0~0~0~

The last place Luna Lovegood ever expected to end up was in front of Professor Snape’s office door. She wouldn't be so surprised to be  _ in _ his office, but she had never seen herself just staring at the door. She wasn’t normally so hesitant - although she knew the Wumbernots were giving her a very difficult time right then. Luna sighed. 

She never disliked Professor Snape and she never thought the Professor disliked her, but they didn’t have much in common. Except sense, maybe. She had heard from a fourth-year Slytherin who she studied with about how Professor Snape will help you - no matter who you are, or what house you’re in - if you’re having problems at home. The girl seemed very sincere - not a Wumbernot in sight. But what if the Professor just thought she was being… looney. Or he wouldn’t think what she had to say was that bad. 

Finally, Luna knocked on the door twice. Twice because once could’ve just been a Jumbler. And three times  _ might _ have been an Illavester. Twice times knocking were always the best. 

“In.” 

Luna pushed the door open and was greeted with the sight of Professor Snape, dark billowy robes and all. Papers bleeding with red ink scattered his desk. She felt bad for those students who had more red then white on their parchment. The Jumblers loved those kinds of students. 

“Hi, Professor,” Luna took a seat across from him. 

“Ms. Lovegood,” he acknowledged. “What brings you here this evening?”

“Well, I…,” Luna trailed off and she saw a spark light across Professor Snape’s eyes for a brief moment. She wasn’t sure how to start, but she wanted to be careful. It would be very silly of her to attract any Jumblers right then. 

“Are you here regarding school work, Ms. Lovegood?” He asked, somehow his voice felt softer without sounding any softer. 

“No, sir,” she said. “I just - heard some things about you. About how you will help students with not-school problems?” 

“You heard correctly,” the Professor nodded. “Are you having difficulty with your father?” 

“No!” Luna’s eyes widened. 

He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. “I apologize then. Are you having difficulty with anyone at home?” 

Luna nodded, her head tilting to the side. She wondered if maybe he could see Jumblers too. Most people couldn’t and the people who couldn’t almost  _ always _ told her they weren’t real. But Professor Snape never did. He had even asked her about the Bezelbee she told him was buzzing around his silver cauldrons in her first year. 

“Cousin Sabrelle,” Luna said sadly. “Father had to go clear out some big Wazlegnats from the train station before they made their nests there, but relocating even one Wazlegnat takes weeks… I stayed with my cousin.” 

“I see,” the Professor nodded. “Was your cousin kind to you?”

“No,” Luna admitted. “She - her house was filled with Jumblers and Ireflies.” 

“Ms. Lovegood,” the Professor began. He regarded her for a moment, as if carefully thinking about what he was going to say next. “What is the significance of Jumblers in her house?” 

“Jumblers jumble, sir,” said Luna. “Sometimes they jumble your head and if they do that, they’re always buzzing around your head. Sometimes… they jumble your house and make everything confusing.” 

“Confusing how?” 

“Homes are supposed to be very happy to have people living there,” said Luna. “But Jumblers make the happiness go away, most of the time.” 

“And Ireflies?” He asked. 

“They - they like to stay next to people who are angry,” said Luna, averting her eyes for a moment. “And Cousin Sabrelle is always angry at home, so her Irefiles stay there.” 

“How do you get rid of these… creatures?” Snape asked. Luna heard curiosity in his voice and she offered a small smile. 

“You have to be happier,” Luna said. “And not so confused. They’ll go away, then.” 

“Well,” he began. “It seems to me your cousin must be a deeply unhappy person. I’m certain it has nothing to do with your presence.” 

Luna nodded. 

“Ms. Lovegood, would you be accepting of either myself or Madam Pomfrey casting a diagnostic spell on you?” 

“You don’t need to,” Luna said airly. “Cousin Sabrelle never had any hurting  _ hands _ .” 

Professor Snape looked like he believed her. “Did she have anything else that was, em, hurting?” 

“Words,” Luna said. “Very dark words, Professor. I had Waterwhetz around me the whole time. I think they are still a few around, but it’s just the nocturnal ones now. I’m - I’m supposed to visit her again over the holidays.” 

“She was verbally abusive to you,” Professor Snape didn’t leave room for protest, not that she would have. “Even though it is less visible than other forms of mistreatment, it is no less disgusting. An adult charged with the care of a child should never allow that child’s body  _ or _ mind to hurt. Do you understand me, Ms. Lovegood?” 

He sounded angry, Luna thought. Angry for her, on her behalf. It felt warm to have someone believe her without question - and for them to step into her corner without a second thought. And all this from an adult too. 

“Yes, sir,” she said. 

“Have you informed your father?” 

“No,” Luna felt her eyes mist over. She knew if she looked, she’d have a Waterhetz right above her head. “He would be very upset with himself, I would imagine.” 

He had sent her to stay with Cousin Sabrelle. He didn’t want her around the Wazlegnats because of how dangerous they could be. He was trying to protect her but instead he… had not. Cousin Sabrelle had always been nice to them - it wasn’t her father’s fault. But, he’d think it was. 

“Perhaps he would,” Snape agreed, fairly but not unkind. “But he would also be very proud and grateful if you told him. He’s a good father to you, isn’t he?” 

“Very much so, sir.” Luna smiled. She loved her father more than anything in this life. If he knew the things Sabrelle had said to her… and about her  _ mother _ … he would have Waterwhetz around his eyes for weeks. 

“Then he would be incredibly sad if he knew you were hurting and didn’t trust him enough to tell him.” 

“I trust him,” Luna whispered. She supposed he would be more upset if he sent her back with Cousin Sabrelle and  _ then _ found it all out. Luna cringed. He would be  _ very, very _ upset and he’d probably never get rid of all his Waterwhetz. 

“Would you be amenable to me arranging a meeting between myself, you, and your father to discuss this matter?” 

“He would want that?” 

“You have my word that he would,” Professor Snape said seriously. 

“Okay, then,” Luna nodded. “Thank you, Professor. People say you’re scary, but you  _ never _ have any Ireflies around you.” 

“I’m… glad to hear it, Ms. Lovegood.” 

Ever since the meeting with them all, Luna felt a million times lighter. Her father had been very sad, but also happy like Professor Snape said. She also never had to spend anymore time with Cousin Sabrelle. Professor Snape had given them the address of a mind healer, but her father had declined and said she could go back to Mrs. Premly if she wanted. She did. Mrs. Premly was the mind healer she talked to after her mother died and she always had light in her eyes. 

Professor Snape had sent her a letter a couple weeks later to ask about her and she had smiled while writing back. She  _ knew _ there was a reason the Ireflies had stayed away from Hogwarts scariest Professor. 

~0~0~0~0~

“Harry,” Professor Lupin looked up from his desk, a brilliant smile spreading over his face. “Come here, come in.” 

Harry matched his smile and walked further into the classroom. He didn’t make it far before Lupin pulled him into a tight hug. It put some pressure on his shoulder which bloody well hurt, but also… there was a pulling of fear in his stomach that made his skin crawl. He ended the hug quicker than he normally would have and stepped back, careful to keep smiling. 

Because there was  _ nothing _ to stop him from smiling. Nothing he was thinking about, anyway. 

“Harry,” Remus took a moment to just look at him, a softness coming to rest in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” 

“Me too,  _ Professor Lupin _ ,” Harry smiled teasingly. “I can’t believe you got your job back.” 

“Neither can I,” Remus shook his head. “The ministry put up a fight. Can you believe they wanted to put a ministry official in his position? They had no basis for it.” 

“How’d you convince them?”

“It was mostly Dumbledore,” said Remus, guiding Harry over to his desk with a hand on his upper back. “But I did have to agree to a monitoring charm and I’ll have to send them a letter each month informing them I’ve taken wolfsbane.” 

Harry opened his mouth to protest the unfairness of such measures, but Remus stopped him by moving his hand to his shoulder. Thankfully, the uninjured one. 

“No, Harry,” Remus implored of him. “This is  _ good _ . It’s progress and it can’t be rushed. I’m incredibly thankful for this.” 

“I can understand that,” Harry said. He looked over the lesson plans laid out on the Professor’s desk. Either first or second year curriculums by the looks of it. “How’s Padfoot?” 

“That old mutt?” Remus’s lips titled fondly. “A pain as always. He asks about you everyday. He was… surprised you hadn’t written to him over the summer.” 

Harry felt shame curl around his heart. He had  _ wanted  _ to write to his Godfather. But… 

“I wanted to,” Harry said truthfully. “It’s just that the Dursleys, you know, they don’t like magic. They didn’t let me use Hedwig at all this summer.” 

“I assumed it was something to that effect,” Remus said, a familiar sadness in his eyes. “Muggles can be very closed minded. I know it may seem cruel, Harry, you have to remember but they just want to protect you from something they don’t understand.” 

Hearing Remus sympathize with the Dursleys made him want to stab himself with his own wand. He wanted to scream at him that  _ the Dursleys care more about the safety of a house fly than me. _ He was angry - angry at the Dursleys, angry at Dumbledore. 

Angry at himself. 

“Will you tell him for me?” Harry asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. 

“Of course,” Remus assured. There was warmth in his voice that Harry didn’t want to hear. “Perhaps we could even arrange a meeting of sorts. I’ll speak with Dumbledore about it.” 

Harry smiled, he wanted nothing more than to see his Godfather, but he didn’t think Dumbledore would go for it. Sometimes, when his thoughts were at their darkest, he wondered if Dumbledore was ever actually on his side. His actions always seemed to prove differently. 

“Thanks, Remus.” 

“Here,” Remus said, snatching up a piece of parchment and handing it to Harry. Harry scanned his eyes over the ink. “Would you mind giving it a once-over?” 

Surprise must have blossomed on his face, given Remus’s smile. “Why do you want me to look it over?” 

“Well,” Remus never lost the smile, tapping the paper in his hands. “Seeing as you’re the only student I’m aware of who has utilized these spells in a real fight, I’d appreciate your opinion.” 

It felt good to be useful. And for Remus to value his opinion so much that he had him look over his own lesson plans. It was nice to not think about plans or problems for a couple hours while he and Remus went over lessons for first through fourth year students. 

And when Remus asked if he’d like to make it a regular thing - prompting Harry into a type of Professor’s Assistant position, he didn’t hesitate to accept. Remus told him that it would be beneficial for the younger years to learn from a student who had used these spells they had only seen in textbooks and controlled environments. Harry had agreed whole-heartedly. 

Because DADA wasn’t just learning, not anymore. This year, it was training. 

~0~0~0~0~

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. His whole body jerked awake and his hands twisted in the sheets as he tried to control his breathing and remember if he had screamed or not. Not that it was ever very hard to explain his nightmares. All he had to do was mumble ‘Voldemort’ or ‘Cedric’ and he’d silence the room and send whoever asked back to bed. Ironically, Harry barely ever dreamt about Voldemort. Glancing out of the bed curtains, Harry breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his dorm mates still soundly sleeping. 

His shoulder was screaming at him for sitting up so quickly and he pressed a hand against it, trying to dull the sharp, blinding pain. Why in Merlin’s name wasn’t this  _ healing? _

He was about three weeks into his fifth year - three weeks less that he had to figure out how the hell he was going to avoid the Dursley’s next summer. Most of his injuries had healed, no that he had  _ that _ many to start with. There was just one that was a persistent nag. His left shoulder screamed at him anytime he tried to lift his hand above his chest. It was odd, and a bit concerning. 

The Dursleys never  _ beat  _ him - that would take more work that they thought he was worth. However, they had no qualms with a slap, punch, push, hair-grab or whatever they wanted. But those always healed quickly - too quickly for a normal child. 

_ Just right for a freak. _

Harry sighed. Even the cuts from Aunt Petunia throwing an empty wine bottle at him had healed without any scars. Funny, he was a boy who couldn’t scar, known for the one scar he did have. And it was true, he never seemed to scar, even from that glass or from his Uncle’s ring across his face. It made being believed impossible. 

Not that it was very relevant now - Harry had given up on that after third grade. When the police showed up at their doorstep… how he survived so long without food, he’d  _ never _ know. But he did know that telling Ms. Lacy had been the worst decision of his young life. She just had such a kind face and a kind name and she  _ asked _ . She asked him so softly if he was okay and he  _ wasn’t okay _ . 

Harry’s breathing picked up as snapshots from his nightmare flashed unwelcome across his eyes. Dudley and his friends pushing him against that fence - the grass under him - the smell of dirt and salt - the - no. No! He. Was. Not. Thinking. About. That. He wasn’t thinking about the laughing either -  _ god _ , the why the fuck were they  _ laughing  _ and - 

Harry felt his feet on the ground before he knew he had gotten up. The clock only read four o’clock but that was enough for him. He’d catch up on some reading - it’d give him something to talk to Hermione about when he asked why he looked so tired. Perfect plan. A perfect plan that requires no thinking. Satisfied, Harry got dressed and headed down to the sitting room. 

~0~0~0~0~

“- and then she acted like she wanted nothing to do with me!” Draco huffed. 

Severus glanced over at his godson. During the first part of the year when work was still slow, Draco often came down to his private potion lab to ‘observe’. Although, usually, ‘observing’ meant either complaining about his housemates or gossiping about them. Draco truly was the imagine of his father when he had been a student. Simply because they had been friends, Severus always knew the latest stories. 

“Did she now?” 

Draco spun himself around once in the chair. “It’s just that - well, I’m happy Pansy got herself a boyfriend and all. She seems happy with him, but we’re her friends and she’s been ignoring us all year.” 

“Have you told her?” 

“We’ve… made it clear,” Draco said reluctantly. 

“So you have not spoken with her,” Snape said as he added crushed beetleworm and hoped… excellent, the potion stayed an icey blue. “You need to.” 

“I know,” Draco said. “And I will - I just wanted her to not  _ need _ us to point it out.” 

“Not all of us are blessed with your intelligence, Draco,” Snape said. “Some of us need to be told the thoughts of another, instead of being intelligent enough to deduce it.” 

Draco’s shoulders melted to the seat. “Fine.” 

“Brillant,” Snape said. The less infighting, the better. 

“I think something’s up with Potter,” Draco changed course, his voice darker. “He’s up to  _ something _ . Something against Slytherin, no doubt.” 

“How do you know?” Five stirs clockwise… no, no that would need to be balanced with at least seven counter stirs and anymore than ten stirs would ruin it. 

“He always looks tired,” Draco shrugged. “And he’s doing  _ well _ in class. Like he’s trying to get in everyone’s good graces before his little prank or whatever.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” Snape growled. He had noticed Potter’s marginally improved potion marks. There, three clockwise stirs had stabilized it. 

Draco nodded. “Anyway, what’s the potion for next class?” 

“I had no idea you have started a career in comedy, Draco.” 

Draco groaned. 

Severus couldn’t help but smile at his Godson. With the absence of the medical diagnostic spell for all his incoming first years, he had spoken to them individually to assess their state of mind. He had twin girls that he was keeping a close eye on, but other than that, his new class  _ seemed _ fine. Draco had volunteered himself to speak with many of the first years after him - a gesture that had made Severus unbelievably proud. 

For all of Draco’s arrogance and strutting about, he truly had a kind heart. In Severus’s opinion, too kind, but he wouldn’t change the boy. Like many other purebloods, he had an image to keep up in the public eye - but it was an image that he didn’t mind taking down in the presence of family. 

Come to think of it, only one child had come to see him for assistance this year. 

Luna Lovegood. She was such an odd, yet fascinating student. Most of her intelligence was hidden behind the odd little creatures only herself and her father could seem to see, but she was still quite obviously a brilliant young witch. The words her  _ cousin _ had spewed to her made Serverus’s blood boil. 

_ A little good-for nothing. Crazy-psycho bitch! So what’d you do while your own mother died, huh? Stood there like a freak. There is nothing over my fucking head you ungrateful whore! _

He thought Mr. Lovegood was about to faint at hearing his daughter say such foul things - especially knowing they had all been directed at her. Luckily, she had her father, who seemed to think she hung the sun, as her support. And an established mind healer. Severus was confident she would be okay, in time. 

~0~0~0~0~

Harry really, really wasn’t having fun with these nightmares. Right now he was crying beside the lake. How much more pathetic could he really get? How much more freakish? Harry wiped at his face with his sleeves, trying to push the panic out of his chest. 

How was he going to get away from the Dursleys? Maybe he could go just to the house and then escape. No. No, because Du - the person he wasn’t thinking about - would be at that house. It was hard to not think about someone when they’re standing in front of you. 

Maybe he could take the train, then run off? But where would he go? Ms. Figg would notice his absence and no doubt tell Dumbledore. Was there anywhere he knew of that he could hide from Dumbledore? Harry laughed in sobs, intertwining with his tears as he buried his head in his hands. Was he really thinking up a plan to hide from Professor Dumbledore? 

No, Harry thought as he sniffed, unless he stayed under his cloak all summer, there was no way. But he had  _ already _ told Dumbledore about the Dursleys and he couldn’t - wouldn’t tell him about… anything else. He couldn’t risk dragging Sirius into this and potentially revealing his location to the Aurors. There was nothing Remus could do, given his werewolf status. He had made that heartbreakingly clear two years ago. He refused to burden the Weasleys, who would just turn him over to Dumbledore anyway. He considered asking if he could stay with Hermione over the summer, but he’d be easy to find there too, plus he didn’t want to get her in trouble. 

“Hello, Harry.” 

“Fuck!” Harry jumped up and spun so fast he almost fell down again. When he saw the white-haired Ravenclaw, he relaxed. His shoulder protested at the sudden movement and he hoped Luna didn’t catch the slight grimace on his face. “Sorry, Luna. You scared the socks off me.” 

Luna looked at his feet. “No, I didn’t.” 

“Right, well,” Harry cleared his throat. Hopefully in the moonlight it wasn’t  _ that _ obvious that he had been sitting here by himself crying. “Is everything okay?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Luna said, walking closer. “You have a  _ lot _ of Jumblers around your hair, Harry.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Harry sighed, sitting back on the grass. Luna waited a few seconds before she came down to join him. 

“And Waterwhetz,” the girl said. “And you’re in pain.” 

Harry’s eyes shot to hers. “What?” 

“Your shoulder hurts,” she said, looking directly at the injury. Harry wondered briefly if there was some invisible little creature flying around, showing Luna where he was hurt. 

“Luna,” Harry started, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Okay?” 

“That doesn't sound like you’re fine,” Luna said. “It’s something a  _ not  _ fine person would say. You should go see-” 

“I’m not going to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry muttered. “So don’t ask.” 

Luna blinked. “You should go see Professor Snape.” 

Harry felt a laugh of ridiculousness bubble up in his chest. Out of all the people Luna could have chosen, she chose the  _ least _ likely person on the list. Still… Harry couldn’t help but wonder why. It was either a ‘Luna Thing’ or she had a reason - Harry could never tell.

Still, Harry couldn’t think of a single logical reason to go see Professor Snape for a shoulder injury. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Luna,” Harry said. “If you haven’t noticed, I made the top of Snape’s Most Hated Students list in my first year. Hell, my first  _ day _ .” 

“Professor Snape doesn’t hate any students,” Luna said. “He helps them. He helped me.” 

Harry turned to face her. “Helped you how?” 

Luna looked out at the water, her dusk blue eyes could have easily been dropped onto her face from the moonlight itself. It would explain the things she could see. Her eyes were staring at the lake, but her gaze seemed to see miles beyond the far shore. 

“I don’t know if he could heal your shoulder,” Luna said, her eyes still on the lake. “But he could make sure it isn't hurt again.” 

Responding to Luna Lovegood was nothing short of impossible for the mere mortal such as himself. She could be impossibly vague. 

“I wish it was that simple,” Harry whispered to her, or maybe to himself. “Don’t you ever wish you could just… sail out on the lake and never have anything to worry over?” 

“I do sometimes,” Luna put her hand on top of his. If any other girl did such a thing, he figured his cheeks would get terribly red. But things like this were different with Luna. He wondered if that’s what it felt like to have a little sister. “But then I remember the people who’d miss me if I sailed away.” 

Harry nodded. 

“I’d miss you if you sailed away, Harry.” 

“I won’t,” he promised. “I’d miss you, too.” 

Luna smiled, but didn’t make any move to leave. She was just content to sit with him and watch the water. Harry was grateful that Luna wasn’t the kind of person who needed to fill every type of silence with talking or noise. She could enjoy the silence like it was meant to be enjoyed. 

What she had said before had rattled him and he prayed she didn’t know anymore than nagging suspicion. If she was implying what he thought she was… well, hopefully she wouldn’t take her concerns elsewhere. 

Because Harry had heard about it. He had known about it since his second hour of first year. The word around the school was, if you were having problems at home, Snape was the Professor to go to. Even the twins admitted it was true, grudgingly, of course -  _ Yeah, he’s still a git, but everyone knows he’s the guy those abused kids go to. _

‘Those abused kids’ wasn’t really a category Harry fell under. He knew the Dursleys were horrible, but nothing they did had crossed the line of… that. 

But he had considered it. He really had. The thought of what happened with Mrs. Lacy was the only thing holding him back from asking someone where Professor Snape’s office was. But then he had met the man, and the man hated him before he got a word in edgewise. His hope in finding solace with Professor Snape was shattered in his first potions class. Then he had spoken to Ms. McGonagall. Then Dumbledore. Then he gave up and accepted a new plan. 

He had wanted to keep his homelife and school life separate until he turned seventeen and could move away from the Dursleys forever. It was a good plan. He wasn’t ever  _ happy _ there, but he could grit his teeth and bare it for a few more years. 

But then there was  _ the smell of dirt, cold grass, laughter _ \- the things he wasn’t thinking about. He fucking  _ hated _ them. More than he hated Voldemort or his Death Eaters or… or  _ anything  _ else. Just the thought of the  _ thought _ of them made him sick to his stomach. Now, because of -  _ laughter, grass  _ \- he had to come up with a plan before summer. And it had to be a damn good one too. 

A plan that got him away from the Dursleys without ever saying  _ why _ he needed to be away from the Dursleys. If such a thing existed. 

~0~0~0~0~

It was a long weekend and Severus had taken Draco back to Malfoy Manor for the three days. It wasn’t common practice, but Draco being his Godson did give him a few privileges, despite what he’s told the boy. In the eyes of the law, a Godparent is second only to the actual parents, above even a grandparent. 

Severus had the option to take Draco with him, off school grounds, if he so chose. He also had permission to allow Draco in his private chambers and his potion lab - perks that Draco had enjoyed since his first year. 

“He’s got that book again, Severus,” Lucius said quietly to him. “He’s certain about it all. I’m worried it’ll crush him if he doesn’t inherit.” 

Severus nodded. Ever since Draco had learned his parents had both come into their Veela inheritances, he had been obsessed with the concept. And he had the features - the moonlight blonde hair, the silver eyes, the porcelain complexion, the slender build. However, those were all also features of his parents that could have nothing to do with being a Veela. The boy had Veela blood either way. 

“You’ve spoken with him?” 

“Numerous times,” Lucius tapped his cane. For appearing in public as such a strict and distant man, Lucius spent a good lot of his time worrying over his son. Severus was certain he mothered the boy more than his actual mother did. “He won’t even accept the  _ possibility _ that he isn’t a Veela.” 

“I wonder why he’s so enchanted by it,” Severus mused. “He knows he wouldn’t disappoint you or Narcissa.” 

Lucius nodded his assent. “I think it’s the idea of a mate.” 

Severus turned to his friend. “Is that so?” 

“He talks about it,” Lucius admitted. “He… and I haven’t said this to him of course… but he  _ sounds _ like a Veela when he talks about them.” 

“Perhaps he’s already met them, if he is a Veela, that is.” 

“I don’t know,” Lucius said. “Maybe. If he regularly spoke with them it might push him into an early inheritance, like what happened with Cissa. It would be harder to tell if he’s just been passing them in the halls.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on him - and anyone he’s keeping an eye on.” 

“Thank you, Severus.” 

~0~0~0~0~

Herbology had been a nightmare and Harry prayed that potions would be slightly better. In the term of their short class, the Five and A Third Petal Grymgrass had reached the end of its life cycle. It had been on Hogwarts grounds for 43 years, he had heard another student say. 

Neville had been in a sorry state once he realized what was going on. The plant had gone from its vibrant purple to a rotten brown in only a few minutes. So today’s Herbology was a plant funeral instead of a lesson. Not that Harry minded too much, it gave him a break. He just wished it hadn’t made Neville so upset. 

Potions still had a good five minutes before the bell, which would hopefully give Neville enough time to pull himself together. 

“Heard what happened in Herbology, mate,” Ron said apologetically when Harry slid into the seat beside him. “That sounded rough.” 

“You should’ve seen Neville,” Harry said, setting out his books. “Where’s Hermione?” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “With Neville. He came in a few minutes ago asking if she’d help bury it.” 

“I think it’s called retiring.” 

“Merlin, just because Hermione’s not here doesn’t mean you have to start  _ sounding _ like her.” 

“You don’t mind the way she sounds when she’s doing your homework for you,” Harry shot back. 

Ron glared at him but before he could form a retort, the Slytherin side of the classroom spoke up. 

Why Snape scheduled doubles with Slytherin and Gryffindor, Harry would never understand. Probably for the sadistic pleasure of taking all the lion’s house points and giving them to the snakes. 

“I bet that’s not  _ all _ she’s doing for you, Weasley!” A fifth year Slytherin - Eli Lendergrass - called out, causing an uproar of snickers. 

Ron’s face flushed as Harry muttered, “ignore them.” 

“Yeah, Weasley,” Pansy piped up. “I bet that Mudblood of yours-” 

“Shut your mouth!” Ron shouted at her. “How dare you, you pug-faced -” 

“Mr. Weasley.” 

And then, of course, there was Snape, coming in at just the wrong time. Or maybe he had been listening behind the door until the moment Ron retaliated to come billowing in. 

“Professor,” Ron scrambled to explain. “She was calling-” 

“I don’t remember asking you,” Snape said, his tone clipped. “15 points from Gryffindor for insulting a fellow student. Another ten for shouting in my classroom.” 

Ron looked ready to kill someone, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Eli and Pansy both smirked at him, knowing they’d gotten away with murder, again. But oddly enough… Harry caught Malfoy’s silver eyes for just a moment. He wasn’t joining in on the smirking and teasing as usual. His face was unreadable, to Harry at least, but he didn’t look amused. 

Maybe Malfoy was having an off day. Did entitled Slytherin Princes get off days? 

Snape got on with the lesson after that, barking orders at people and glaring over his and Ron’s cauldron like he was willing it to explode. 

“This should be simple to those of you who read last night’s chapter,” he nodded to the Slytherins with that. “And exceedingly difficult for those who thought it below you,” and he glared at the Gryffindors with that. “Just remember to  _ crush _ the bettleworms before adding them. I have no desire for a trip to the infirmary today.”

And then something really interesting happened. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry caught sight of Eli rolling a  _ not crushed _ beetleworm between his fingers and eyeing their potion. Harry was just getting ready to cover the top of the cauldron, when he realized he didn’t need to. 

Malfoy had snatched the ingredient from and was saying something to the other Slytherin - and he didn’t look happy. Eli looked like he was explaining, but Malfoy wasn’t budging. Did Malfoy have some sort of monopoly on causing Harry and his friends trouble? He never made a fuss about it before. 

Harry caught Snape eyeing the exchange, but like with most actions from the Slytherins, he didn’t intervene. 

Malfoy couldn’t have stopped him from the kindness of his heart - so why did he? He’d consult Hermione about it later. For now, he had to focus on ensuring Ron didn’t blow them both up. 

~0~0~0~0~

Harry was at the lake again, a book open beside him and a notepad balanced on his knees. His grades had actually picked up with the extra studying he had been doing. He thought Hermione was going to explode from happiness when she saw his first round of essay grades. Then she had started in on Ron with  _ see, if Harry can do it, so can you. _

Thanks, Hermione. 

_ “Dirty humansss,” _ Harry watched a small black snake hiss as it slithered by. He usually let them go without saying anything but… 

_ “Hey, I just showered today, you know.”  _

The little snake whipped around and regarded Harry with intelligent yellow eyes. 

_ “A sssspeaker?”  _

_ “A sssspeaker,”  _ Harry confirmed.  _ “How’ssss it going?”  _

What else was he going to say to a snake? 

_ “The hunting issss fantasssstic today, ssspeaker.”  _

_ “Sss’good to hear.”  _

_ “Why are you ssssad, powerful sssspeaker?” _

Harry looked at him. What was he going to do - tell anyone else? Judge him? 

_ “Life’ssss been hard lately,”  _ Harry told him, tapping his quill against the paper, little ink dots appearing in the top corner.  _ “With my family.”  _

_ “Leave them,”  _ the snake advised.  _ “Familiessss are for egg-nests.” _

_ “I’m trying, but it’ssss not ssso ssssimple for me. I don’t know how to leave.” _

_ “Poissssson them. Ssssstart a new family with a larger mate.”  _

Harry laughed. If only his life was as simple as a snake’s. Don’t like your family? Poison them and find yourself a new, larger mate. 

Well, it was better than half the plans he came up with by himself, anyway. There was a pile of books by his bedside that would make Hermione proud. He was a wizard for crying out loud - there had to be something within one of Hogwarts prized books that allowed him to give muggles the slip. 

Only the problem was, after he gave muggles the slip, he had to hide from the world’s most powerful wizard and… everyone else for that matter. 

~0~0~0~0~

Draco had walked out of class confused. Not by the subject material, of course. The potion was rather easy in the grand scheme of things. Just a freshening potion that his Godfather had tweaked to last longer. When he had noticed Eli - Pansy’s new boyfriend - aiming to sabotage Potter and Wessel’s potion, he had felt a surge of anger filter throughout his person. 

Which was odd, because he had sabotaged the Golden Trio’s potions plenty of times himself. Maybe it was due to the fact he didn’t particularly  _ like _ Eli Lendergrass. But that’s not what it felt like. The problem was he didn’t  _ know _ what it felt like. 

“I cannot believe that wolf is teaching us Defense again,” Blaise was walking with him, grumbling about Lupin again. The other Slytherin had been furious when news dissolved around the train about Hogwarts new old DADA Professor. “He’s even got himself a little  _ assistant  _ for the younger years.” 

“So I’ve heard.” Draco said. The younger years had been whispering about Defense all year long. As much as he resented Lupin being a Professor, he had to admit his lessons weren’t terrible. “Do you know who?” 

“Who else,” Blaise asked sarcastically. “Potter. Which Professor’s playing favorites now, right?” 

So Potter was the assistant he had heard about. Interesting. He knew first hand that Potter was skilled at DADA, but usually positions of teaching assistance were reserved for seventh years. Though he couldn’t be too surprised, as he knew Potter and Lupin had some sort of personal relationship. 

Though, with the way the younger years spoke, Potter was doing a good job. 

“Draco?” 

Draco glanced over. “Yes?” 

“I say we, em, interfere?” Blaise smile with Slytherin wit. “How does a slow-acting tripping spell on Potter’s shoelaces sound?” 

“Have you lost the plot, Zambini?” Draco whispered angrily. “You could kill him that way.” 

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “I think a tripping spell is a far throw from murder.” 

“Not if he’s teaching  _ Defense _ ,” Draco said. “He’ll be demonstrating spells, perhaps even dueling.” 

“If a tripping spell is enough to do him in-” 

“I said we aren’t doing it,” Draco’s eyes dared his friend to say otherwise. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Blaise spoke up again. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you this year, Draco,” Blaise said. “But, frankly, it’s concerning.” 

“What is?” 

“You.” Now that there were in a more secluded stretch of hall, Blaise stopped and turned to him. Those dark eyes looking for something, but obviously not finding it. “First you won’t let us go confront Potter on the train, then you stop Eli from messing with him in potions, and now you won’t even entertain the idea of playing a little joke on him?” 

“Perhaps I’ve grown out of those games,” Draco said stiffly. He didn’t want to be asked these questions because, well, he couldn’t answer them. 

“I don’t believe you,” Blaise said. “I’m asking as your friend, Draco. If you want us to lay off Potter, we will. You know that right?” 

Draco nodded. Did he want them to lay off Potter? 

“I’d just like to know why, that’s all,” Blaise shrugged. 

Draco couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bad about keeping his friends out of the loop. Even if, as it stood, he himself was also out of the loop. Blaise was his closest friend in Hogwarts - ever since he sat next to the boy on the train in their first year. 

They had grown even closer after Blaise hadn’t passed Severus’s medical spell. Blaise had spent a fair amount of time at his parents house while his home situation was worked out. Even now, Blaise usually stayed over for a few weeks in the summer. 

“We can discuss it more later,” Draco settled on and Blaise accepted the dismissal for what it was. 

The walk back to the dorms was a silent, contemplative one. 

Draco had tried to dismiss the incident and put everything with Potter out of his mind. He still hated the castle’s most famous celebrity, but maybe he  _ had _ been truthful when he told Blaise he was growing out of their little school years rivialy. 

Why the hell did that make him so dejected? 

He remembered the first time he ever saw Potter, running around with that blood-traitor his father was always going on about. He had offered his friendship - which wasn’t something a Malfoy did easily - and he was rejected. Flat. Outright. Rejected. 

He had been upset over it for weeks. Even though his parents assured him there were much better friends awaiting him at Hogwarts. Even though his Godfather had growled out that the boy sounded just like his father had - spoiled, entitled, and arrogant. Their words emboldened him - he didn’t need to be friends with Potter. But… he couldn’t help but find himself around the boy all the time. So, if he couldn’t be friends, he made them enemies. 

It made sense anyway - the Great Rivalry, Slytherin and Gryffindor, Half-Blood and Pureblood, Silver and Black, Potter and Malfoy. 

Maybe they were too old for the Great Rivalry now. 

It was just his luck that Potter was making use of the Quidditch field when he wanted to use it. But, Potter had already seen him and Draco wasn’t about to back down from a confrontation. Perhaps breath some life back into the great rivalry. 

“Well, Potter,” Malfoy stepped forward. The Gryffindor was on the ground, fiddling around with his broomstick’s tail. “Trying to polish up, are we? Not that you have much to polish.” 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” The other boy asked tiredly. It was wrong. Potter wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be tired. He was supposed to jump up and start fighting with him. 

“Use of the field, what else?” Malfoy tapped his foot. 

Potter looked at him like he was dumb, waving his hand behind him. “Have at it.” 

“Aren’t you practicing?”

Potter smoothed out his broomstick once more before standing. “I just finished.” 

“What has been going  _ on _ with you, Scarhead?” Malfoy eyed him suspiciously. “I know you’re up to something. And, trust me, Potter, I’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m not up to anything, Ferret,” Potter glared, which was more like it. “When’s your daddy going to tell you the world doesn’t wake up just to please Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco’s shoulders tingled.  _ Draco Malfoy. _ Had Potter ever said his first name before? Draco couldn’t recall. 

“Whatever,” Potter tucked his firebolt under an arm and started to stomp off. 

Draco was  _ not _ finished with this conversation. Draco didn’t really intend to, but as Potter walked by him, he grabbed the other boy’s arm, intent on spinning him around to continue their not-really-but-sort-of argument. 

He hadn’t expected Harry to stumble towards him. 

_ “Ah _ ,” Potter gasped, just barely catching himself. His firebolt clattered to the ground as he pressed his right hand against his left shoulder. 

“I didn’t grab you  _ that _ hard, Potter!” Draco defended. His hand felt like it had been burned and heat spread out across his neck and back. Had he grabbed him too hard - he couldn’t have! He wasn’t trying to hurt Harry. 

“It wasn’t you,” Harry said through his teeth. He was taking deep, body-steadying breaths. “It’s fine.” 

“I’ve always assumed you were dull,” Draco said, his eyes on the crazy Gryffindor before him. “But now I have proof. What happened?” 

“And you care because…?” 

“Because I…” Because he made it worse, he caused him hurt when he didn’t mean to, he had no idea what was going on. “Because you look like you’re about to faint on the grass and I will not be charged with the Golden Boy’s untimely death.” 

“I fell wrong,” Harry mumbled, his breath finally even. “Just now, during practice.” 

“The field is  _ empty _ , Potter, and you still manage to knock yourself out, huh?” Draco shook his head. Gryffindors. “Well, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will have room for her favorite idiot.” 

“Right.” 

“Do…,” But then he stopped short. Was he just about to ask Potter if he needed  _ help _ going to the infirmary? “Are you leaving or do you plan to take up the field all day?” 

“Leaving,” Harry scooped up his broom. “Watch your left, Malfoy.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You drop it,” Potter considered. “When you make a right turn, you always drop your left.” 

“Oh,” silver eyes met green. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

Draco watched the injured boy leave. He wasn’t walking like someone with an injury as severe as Potter’s seemed to be. Draco had seen Potter get hurt over the years, but he never had that kind of reaction. 

Draco didn’t think of Potter as someone who exaggerated an injury for sympathy. But it’s not like he  _ cared _ . Madam Pomfrey could deal with whatever was bothering him. 

Draco mounted his broom and for the entirety of the time, he kept a close eye on his left. 

~0~0~0~0~

Harry wasn’t exactly feeling  _ confident _ in his plan, but it was better than nothing. In the library he had found  _ The Brilliant Young Witch’s Guide to Nights Away _ . It was mostly filled with social protocols of pureblood nightlife - which in itself was odd - but there was one chapter that had caught Harry’s eye. 

_ Chapter 13: Clever With Lies and Illusions _

There was a holographic spell that was meant to trick  _ The Brilliant Young Witch’s _ parents into thinking she was asleep when she wasn’t. What was  _ very _ interesting about the spell is that it could bear physical weight - such as a blanket, but it couldn’t be touched by human hands, or it would dissolve. 

If Harry could find a way to tie his magical signature to this spell, he could trick the wards into thinking he was still there. And if he put his invisibility cloak over the illusion, the Dursleys would be none the wiser. He’d have to figure out some way to test it, but he had all year for that. 

Though, the sooner the better, just in case it needed touching up. Not for the first time, he wished he could consult Hermione about this. 

With that thought in mind and with classes done for the day, Harry slid the book in his backpack and slipped out of the library. 

The Astronomy tower was the best place to test his theory, Harry thought. 

Harry just needed this to work. Everything felt so different lately. Ron and Hermione were still as they always were, but they felt more distant this year. Although, that distance was probably his own doing. Luna was… she scared Harry. She knew things that others didn’t and she could see things others couldn’t. She had caught onto his shoulder immediately. He was worried about what else she knew and if she would tell anyone. Especially after that ‘Professor Snape helped me’. Which, in itself was concerning because it told him that Luna had needed help but he respected her enough not to ask. He didn’t know what Luna  _ thought _ she knew, but when she had said Snape could make sure he wasn’t hurt again… well, he’d have to keep a close eye on her. 

Then there was Malfoy and his odd behavior. Between him saving his potion and him urging him to see Madam Pomfrey, Harry didn’t understand the Slytherin anymore. He wondered if Malfoy would keep the shoulder injury to himself. Harry probably wasn’t that lucky. 

It wasn’t that he was… embarrassed, per say. About his shoulder. It was just that these things usually healed. This was a Dursley-injury and he had never needed magical healing for one of those before. And this particular injury… he was...fuck, he was scared as hell that Madam Pomfrey might know how he got it - as ridiculous as that sounded. But Harry didn’t know the ins and outs of magical healing and… 

Breath. Harry wasn’t thinking about the Dursleys, therefore he wasn’t thinking about his shoulder. His attention turned back to the task at hand. 

He had a basic idea of how the wards Dumbledore put up informed him of Harry’s presence and safety. They couldn’t possibly tell the man when he had been hurt, but they told him if he had died. If he tied his magical signature to the hologram and then pushed it off the Astronomy tower, it  _ should _ make the wards go off. And if the wards went off, that meant they worked. 

Hopefully. 

Relaxing his shoulders with a slight wince, Harry drew his wand and waved it in front of himself. 

Up with a sharp curve left -  _ Illusio  _

Down and to the right -  _ Incarnate  _

Flicked straight ahead -  _ Persona  _

There was a flicker of light and then - he was staring at himself. Only, upon closer inspection, the colours were faded, like an old blanket ran through the wash too many times. His face was also a little blurry, like looking into a foggy mirror, but it didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be able to be traced with magic. 

Harry raised his right arm, almost expecting the spell to act like a mirror, but it stood unmoving. It was the strangest thing to be staring at himself - a dull, washed out, dead - version of himself. He wondered if that’s what he’d look like when he died. 

Harry cast the warding spell over the illusion and watched the red light settle and sink into it’s fake skin. Fingers crossed, Harry pushed the illusion over the Astronomy tower’s edge. 

Then he heard the scream. 

_ “Harry!” _

~0~0~0~0~


	2. The Winds Change - and Fate Follows

**Chapter Two: The Winds Change - and Fate Follows**

He was thinking of something expensive he could buy Blaise to make up for being such a prat these last few weeks. He knew he had been doing the very thing he had been irate at Pansy for doing earlier - ignoring his friends. 

He was going through a catalog, laying across the Slytherin’s couch. He shifted and pulled his collar back. He was just trying to figure out how the dungeons could get so hot in autumn when he spotted a line of ivory faded doublets. Blaise would look great in  _ Madame Havalto _ ’s new winter collection. Maybe he’d order him a few choices from there. 

Draco felt a prickling of sweat begin to bead his neck and sat up, annoyed. “Goyle, drench the fire, would you? It’s bloody hot in here.” 

Goyle looked up from what he considered ‘homework,’ confused. “Draco, it’s freezing in here.” 

“It’s…,” Draco looked over to Crabbe, who nodded. “Is it?” 

“Merlin, are you sick?” Pansy walked in briskly, as if summoned by Draco’s sudden illness. “Off the couch so I can disinfect it.” 

Right. Pansy couldn’t stand sickness or the thought of it. She was a… a germ… What was it again? 

Draco’s head felt light. He couldn’t hold onto his thoughts. 

“I’m not sick,” Draco protested but Pansy was already telling Goyle to, “go get Professor Snape.” 

Pansy laid a hand on his forehead and yanked it back. Draco did not get a good feeling about how wide her eyes were. 

“What?” Draco demanded, beginning to climb to his feet. 

“Mate-,” Crabbe started, but Draco was already standing. 

He was up for less than two seconds before he swayed dangerously and Pansy’s hands darted out to steady him. He heard the catalog he was holding thump to the floor. The world was tilting and he could barely hear Pansy urging him to sit back down. 

“Crabbe!” She barked. “Help me.” 

Crabbe sprang into action, as he often did once given a command, and steadied Draco’s other side. Both of them managed to lower Draco back down to the couch. Draco groaned at the heat building up around his body and he pawed at the buttons of his overcoat. 

“Here’s not really the place, Draco,” Pansy moved his hands, ignoring his protests of, “hot.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Parkinson,” he heard his Uncle’s voice drift by. “Mr. Crabbe. I’ll take him from here.” 

“Standing didn’t work out very well for him, Professor,” was that Pansy speaking? Why was she so far away? 

“I’ll take care of...”

“He just said he was hot...” 

“...quickly...really have a chance...”

“...nothing to worry...” 

“Will he be…” 

Then he gave into the darkness that was so gently calling to him. 

_ Draco was young… or was he? He was certain he was in his fourth - no, fifth year at Hogwarts.  _

_ Hogwarts?  _

_ Draco watched as the castle came into view from across the lake. He had seen it before. His Uncle had taken him to this majestic castle many times throughout his childhood. But the castle had been sleeping then. No students, no laughter, no unknown. Now Draco was more alone then he had ever been before. He was the same as every other student on that boat. He didn’t belong to a house, he was removed from his family, no one on his boat even knew his last name or what it meant.  _

_ There was the boat just behind his own. The one he had wanted to be on. The one that held the boy with shaggy black hair and green eyes. The boy that sat with a mudblood and a blood traitor. Draco Malfoy was a pureblood, rich and influential. Why would those two be chosen over him?  _

_ Slytherin, had been called out for the silver haired boy.  _

_ Gryffindor, has been called out for the black haired boy.  _

_ The black haired boy was a seeker. The youngest in a century. Draco started practicing with a snitch.  _

_ His Godfather hated the boy. He spoke about him in hushed tones, belittled him in class… Draco felt satisfaction. Didn’t he? Why wouldn’t he?  _

_ He was following the boy through the woods. He was asking his father about him. Everything he heard was the same.  _

_ The boy hated him. And, in turn, he hated the boy. Because if he didn’t hate him, he would mean nothing to him. And the thought of meaning nothing to the boy was unbearable, worse than being hated, worse than being despised. He just had to make sure the boy never stopped hating him. Never stopped catching his eye in the hall. Never stopped saying his name.  _

_ But who wanted this - the attention from the boy? It couldn’t be Draco. It was something inside Draco. Something powerful, something asleep. Draco let it sleep.  _

_ The boy was in the hospital wing, hurt. The something stirred.  _

_ The boy was competing in that tournament - why was nobody stopping him? The something turned. It couldn’t yet be time.  _

_ The boy was tired. The boy was lost. Draco couldn’t watch and the something breathed.  _

_ The boy was hurting. He could feel it. It wasn’t time, but it was close enough. _

_ The boy gasped in pain and the something opened its silver eyes.  _

He was with his parents when he woke up.

His mother was sitting to his left, reading a purple-bound book. His father was in the chair to his right, his arm close enough to brush the bed’s crisp white sheets. Once he began to stir, he watched his father’s eyes find his own and he heard his mother’s book snap shut. 

“What happened?” Were the first words out of his mouth. 

He watched an array of emotions spill over his father’s face. He was about to turn to his mother when a smile broke out over his father’s face and Draco found himself wrapped in the older Malfoy’s arms. 

“Oh, Dragon,” his father whispered in his ear. 

Draco pulled back, confusion shining in his eyes. “What’s going on?” 

“Don’t you feel it, Draco?” Narcissa asked of him. “The magic around you?” 

Well… he did. Now that he spared it half a thought, he did. Magical energy was wrapped in ringlets around his core - tingling and sensitive, like newly grown skin. Draco spread his fingers across the cool bed sheets, his skin catching on every fiber and fold. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The air felt new - cold and fresh. As if he had been trapped in a musty room and just then stepped out to breath in mountain air. 

“I don’t understand,” Draco said. “Mother?” 

“You,  _ my son _ ,” Narcissa swept down and cupped his face. Her eyes were fierce, those same eyes he’s seen a thousand times, but at this moment, her gaze felt different. “You have never made your family as proud as we are today. You have inherited.” 

“You’re one of us,” Lucius imparted. “In name, in blood, and now, in race.” 

A Veela. Draco had known, he had  _ known _ , deep in his very bones that he would inherit like his mother and father before him. But even so, clouds of doubt had entered his mind. The what if’s had overwhelmed him at times. But now… oh, Merlin. 

He even felt different. He felt older, more mature. Emotions had new meanings and endings were being rewritten into beginnings. Magic shimmered over his very being, welcoming him into a new, changed life. 

The door was opened, pulling his thoughts back into reality. 

“Godfather,” Draco pushed himself up to sit. 

“Good evening, Draco,” Severus offered him a rare, genuine smile. “You’ve had quite the couple of days.” 

“Days?” Draco mumbled, trying to recall. “Pansy?” 

“She’s been asking over you, they all have,” Severus said. “I’ve kept the wolves at bay for the time being.” 

Draco nodded. He had remembered collapsing, just barely. Pansy had been… she had thought he was sick. He had felt like someone threw him into a fire. He remembered her catching him and he remembered his Godfather’s voice. 

He remembered his dreams. Draco’s shoulders melted and he felt like someone had ripped him apart and stuck him back together.  _ His dream _ . He had prepared for this. He had read and reread every book the Malfoy library possessed on the transition from human to Veela. 

_ When the child, generally between the ages of 17-23, begins the transition phase, a magical fever will set in, protecting the body from the Veela’s changing magic. During the magical fever, the Veela will either dream of themselves or another person.  _

_ If the Veela dreams only of themselves, commonly their most life changing experiences, then the Veela has not encountered it’s Life Mate while a human. However, if the Veela’s dreams center around another person, then that person will be identified as their True Mate shortly after turning.  _

_ The dreams of a True Mate allow the Veela to explain any odd behaviors that may have occurred around the Life Mate. Once the Veela fully awakens, if objectively possible, the Life Mate should be within proximity of the Veela no less than four hours a day for proper magical settling…  _

Draco could hear his father speaking with pride, “and at only  _ fifteen _ , my dear. He must be the youngest Malfoy in a century to inherit.” 

Severus was handing him a potion, a calming drought by the looks of it. “For your heart rate.” 

Draco pushed it back. “I think it would be of more use to you, Uncle.” 

Severus looked at him questioningly. 

“I had the dream,” Draco prayed this would go over well. “It, well… it wasn't just about me.” 

“Oh, Draco,” his mother smiled softly. “Don’t keep us in suspense, dear. Tell us who the next Madame-”

“-or Lord,” Lucius added. 

“Or Lord Malfoy will be,” his mother had an eagerness in her eyes. The same eagerness he witnessed when she was building a case she knew she’d win. The same eagerness that he shared when they decorated the entire manor for a famously eloquent Malfoy function. 

“Um,” Draco said, very un-Malfoy like. He looked to his mother’s waiting eyes, to his father’s pointedly open eyes, to his Godfather’s mildly curious eyes. This was going to go over well. 

Could he get away with not telling them? 

“Is it…,” Lucius started. “It’s a student, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Draco was quick to reassure. The people his family were likely thinking up in their heads was not information Draco ever wanted to know. 

“And they’re human?” Asked his mother. 

“It’s Harry?” Draco said, more of a question than anything. To the blank stares, he added. “Potter. It’s Harry… Potter.” 

Lucius blinked once. Then twice. “Dragon…” 

“Merlin,” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Out of every student Hogwarts has to offer...” 

“Both of you!” Narcissa snapped. Her magic stilled the air and all three of the room's occupants looked at her. “I will not hear  _ one _ ill word about my son’s  _ Life Mate _ . If you have them, you will not speak them in my presence or in his. I, for one, am under the impression that Mr. Potter not only gave us a distinct upper hand in this war, but he is also a powerful descendent of an ancient line.” 

Draco grinned at his mother. It was amazing really, how quickly she stood up for Harry. He was ready to defend his mate himself - regardless that he would have been mortified and unbelieving if someone told him this information yesterday. Now, his whole world view had changed. Actions and feelings made sense better than ever before. 

When he thought of Harry now, it was only love and protectiveness that curled around his heart like a mother dragon. Wasn’t Harry here? That’s right, he was hurt last time Draco saw him. But, given that was a few days ago, Harry was likely long gone. Though, that shoulder had seemed pretty bad. If Harry had needed any bones regrown, he might still be here. 

“I apologize,” his father told him. “I meant no ill will towards your mate, Draco. I was just… incredibly surprised.” 

“As was I,” Severus added quietly. Which, Draco assumed, was the closest to an apology he was getting. 

“Harry,” Draco said, tingling at the way his name rolled off his tongue. “I need to see him.” 

“My son,” Narcissa said, eyes darting to her own Life Mate. “I realize your feelings towards… Harry have changed rather abruptly. But you need to know that Harry’s feelings may take longer to change.” 

Draco’s smile fell marginally. 

“He’s your Life Mate,” his mother assured. “His feelings towards you  _ will _ change. But you have to be prepared, he may not accept you right away.” 

Draco nodded, but the newly born Veela in him  _ ached _ at being told his mate wouldn’t accept him. 

“It’s true,” his father nodded. “You two have always had chemistry.” 

“Of trying to kill each other,” Severus muttered and Narcissa glared at him. 

“I don’t care,” Draco said decisively. “I’ll do whatever it takes for Harry to see me as worthy. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn being worthy of him.” 

“Of that,” his Godfather said. “I have no doubt. Now, if you’re feeling well enough, I believe Slytherin’s newest Veela would do well to reassure his friends I haven’t used him as potion ingredients.” 

Draco smiled. “We’re in the infirmary?” 

“Private room,” Severus nodded. Draco had thought so. 

“Has Harry been here?” Draco asked. “Not in this room, but did you see him in the infirmary?” 

“Should he have been?” 

“He hasn’t?” Draco suddenly sat up all the way, ignoring his father’s protests. “I just saw him earlier, well, a couple days ago, now. He told me he was going straight to see Madame Pomfrey.” 

“How did Potter manage to injury himself this time?” Severus asked. 

“It was on the Quidditch field,” Draco recalled. “He told me he had taken a fall. I had tried to grab his arm and he gasped. I think he was trying to hide the extent of it from me, but I could tell he was in a fair amount of pain.” 

“That’s likely what triggered the inheritance,” Lucius said. “Your mother inherited after I was hit with a spell in Defense.” 

“You were hit with a  _ reduto _ ,” Narcissa still didn’t look happy about it. “You could’ve been killed.” 

“From across the room and on top of a protective shield.” 

“But he hasn’t been in?” Draco pressed. “His shoulder looked broken, it would take at least an overnight stay to heal.” 

“Draco,” Severus started. “Your mother is correct, we need to take the process of informing Mr. Potter slowly and deliberately. If he were to outright reject you, it would have dire consequences.” 

“I’m aware,” Draco flipped the blanket off of himself, he straightened himself out, so he was sitting on the side of the bed with his feet touching the floor. 

“I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey about him,” Severus said. 

“Thank you,” Draco rolled his shoulder back. “It’s Thursday then?” 

“Thursday evening,” Lucius confirmed. “Don’t worry, Severus has already spoken with your Professors. The rest of the week is yours. Would you like to come home until Monday?” 

Draco saw the expectancy in his father’s eyes, but the thought of being further away from Harry was not a pleasant one. Besides, there was still the fact he might be hurt. It was such an odd feeling. Thoughts that were his but also foregin raced through his mind, telling him to seek out his mate. Ensure he was okay. 

“Let him get his eyes on Mr. Potter before you ask, love,” Narcissa advised her husband. “Perhaps you could invite him to a neutral location to discuss your inheritance, Draco. Lucius and I could be there if you wished.” 

Draco nodded and smiled at his mother. Without inviting his parents, Draco was sure Harry would assume it was all a prank. “I’ll offer that he can invite someone of his own. Who does Harry live with? Outside of school.” 

“His maternal aunt and uncle,” Severus answered, his lip curling just slightly. Draco could tell he was holding back from insulting Harry’s family, but doing so with difficulty. “Those… people despise the very concept of magic. I doubt they would be in attendance.” 

Draco did not agree with his mate living with muggles. But that was an argument for a different time. 

“Well, either way,” Draco said. “I’ll need to start a letter to him. I should go see Pansy and the rest as well.” 

Draco had bid his parents farewell with a hug from his father and a kiss to the cheek from his mother. They assured him the offer to come home for the weekend was still open before thanking Severus and taking their leave. Once Draco was dressed appropriately for the halls, his Godfather offered the floo, but Draco declined, he’d rather walk. His skin was so sensitive with magic that the notion of flooing sounded unpleasant. 

They were walking back to the Slytherin dorms when they passed the Astronomy Tower. Just by chance, Draco glanced to the top and his heart stopped. He felt like time had been slowed, he felt his eyes widen, he heard himself call his Godfather’s attention. 

Harry Potter’s form was just barely visible, standing at the edge of the Astronomy Tower’s roof. His mate. 

Draco took a step forward, Severus raised his wand. 

Harry fell and Draco screamed. 

_ “Harry!”  _

Severus was casting spells Draco had never heard of, desperate to slow the other boy’s fall, but it was as if the spells went right through him, nothing worked.

Harry hit the ground and… then nothing. 

The form that he had  _ thought _ was Harry, that looked exactly like Harry, was gone as if it never existed. 

Draco’s shocked heart stuttered again. Where was he? Draco walked over to the place he had seen Harry fall - he had  _ seen _ it. Severus had cast spells to stop him. 

“Uncle?” Draco asked, his breath betraying his state of mind. 

“I…,” for once, his uncle seemed lost for words. 

Then the Tower’s bottom door swung up, smacking against the bricks as it did, and there in all his glory, stood Harry Potter. His cheeks were red from running and his chest was labored. 

“Draco!” Severus snapped, but it was too late. 

Draco had already rushed up to his mate, scared silver eyes meeting nervous green ones. Draco reached out a hand to lightly grab the side of Harry’s shoulder. The skin was warm through his robe - alive and well. And beautiful. Merlin, how had he never noticed those eyes before? Draco let his hand fall when Harry stepped back. 

“I can explain,” Harry said, eyes drifting to Severus. 

“I most  _ certainly _ hope so, Mr. Potter,” Severus growled out. 

“I was testing a theory,” Harry said quickly. “It was just an illusion spell that I’m… learning about.” 

“And this… experiment required you to push your likeness from the Astronomy Tower?” 

“I didn’t think anyone was around, sir,” Harry said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to, eh, concern you.” 

Draco straightened his shoulders and took a step forward. He felt his face settle into the masterfully diplomatic expression he inherited from his father. Here, standing before him, was the wizard he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Right then, Harry didn’t think very highly of him. But he would change that. 

Draco considered this moment his second first impression. 

“Potter,” Draco said, his face never betraying his hammering heart. “Coincidentally, I was just on my way to draft you a letter of invitation.” 

Harry was staring at him, no doubt waiting for the insulting punchline that would never come. Never again. 

“But seeing as we’re meeting now,” Draco continued. “I would like to extend a formal invitation to a… meeting between you, the Headmaster, and myself. If you’re amenable, I would also like to invite my parents and you are of course welcome to invite anyone you wish.” 

“Within reason,” his Godfather added. “I will not have the whole of Gryffindor bombargining the Headmaster.” 

Harry blinked once, then twice, glanced at Severus, and scoffed. 

“Invitation declined, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Whatever this is, I don’t want a part in it.” 

That hurt. More than Draco expected it to. He didn’t know what he expected - Harry rejected him before first year even started and now he had even more reasons to hate him. That little voice inside of him felt like the wind had been knocked out of it. 

“It’s non-negotiable, Mr. Potter,” he heard his Godfather say. 

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut in, looking at Harry to show who he was really talking to. “No, it was an invitation. If he wants to decline, he can.” 

“Draco…,” Severus started. He knew his Godfather was concerned. Harry needed to know about being his mate and he would. But he wasn’t going to make a good second first impression by compelling his Life Mate into something he didn’t want to do. 

Harry’s shoulders relaxed and Draco caught the wince. It was very slight - just a twitch of the eye, but Draco’s senses were hyper aware of his mate so close after turning. So he  _ hadn’t _ gotten healing for his shoulder. Why?

“Merlin, Potter,” Draco said, diplomacy abandoned - that clearly had not worked. “I thought you were going to see Madam Pomfrey.” 

Harry looked like a kid caught in a lie - which, he objectively was. But then a familiar defiance washed over his features and masked any perceived weakness. 

“I think where I go is my business, Malfoy,” Harry glared. “It’s fine.” 

“Why don’t you want to see Madam Pomfrey?” Draco asked, as much out of curiosity as argument. 

“Potter,” Severus cut in, a growl in his voice. “You will go to the infirmary and you will inform Madam Pomfrey of your injury. If you don’t, expect detention for the remainder of this week. And I will know if you don’t.” 

Harry looked ready to protest, but more than that, he looked upset. Draco wanted to snap at his Godfather for the harsh tone with his obviously injured mate, and he just barely held his tongue. Harry had no qualms with seeing Madam Pomfrey for other injuries, why now? Was this a case of bruised Gryffindor pride at hurting himself on a field with no one else in sight. Or was it something else? 

More than anything, Draco wanted to be able to ask and receive a truthful response. He wanted to offer to come with his mate and sit beside him while he was healing. But Draco couldn’t yet. He didn’t deserve that yet. But he would earn it and this was the first step. 

“Fine,” Potter ground out, adding a belated. “Sir.” 

“Potter,” Draco said as the other boy was about to leave. “The invitation is for Saturday, 10:00am in the Headmaster’s office, if you change your mind.” 

Harry paused and nodded once before heading off. Draco felt a warmth spread over his chest. 

“Is the Headmaster busy at that time?” Draco asked once Harry was gone. He had chosen a time and place off the top of his head, to allow Harry time to think it over. 

“Once he hears the topic of the meeting, he won’t be,” Severus assured. “Draco, are you okay?” 

“What?” Draco looked at him. “I’m fine.” 

“You just watched your Life Mate plummet from a rooftop, illusion or not, that isn’t ideal for a newly turned Veela.” 

A grin spread across Draco’s face. “Uncle, I’m  _ Harry Potter’s _ Life Mate, nothing about this will go ideally.” 

Severus closed his eyes briefly. “At least you’re aware.” 

“More than aware,” Draco kept the smile. “Now we need to figure out how to tell him on Saturday.” 

“Tell him in the meeting he declined?” 

“He’ll come,” Draco said confidently. He could feel it. There was no way Harry’s curious, adventurous personality would allow him to miss the meeting. Making it in Dumbledore’s office would make him feel secure enough that it wasn’t a trap. Once he reached that conclusion, he’d come. 

Draco could feel it, down to his very core. 

_______________________________________________ 

Harry wasn’t sure what triggered it. But when his breathing picked up on the walk to Madam Pomfrey, he found the first, most abandoned looking boy’s bathroom he could. Fuck - this is why he wasn’t  _ thinking _ about it. But then Snape ordered him into the infirmary now he didn't have a choice about it. Because now, he would have to stick with his lie and hope it didn’t fall apart. 

Harry slid down the back wall of the bathroom and pulled up his knees. He worked at keeping his breathing steady, although he was failing miserably. He tangled his hand in his hair. This had happened more times then he’d like to remember once he was at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Sitting alone, for two weeks, with nothing but his worst nightmare to think about. 

“You’re fine,” Harry whispered. “You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.” 

Harry’s mind obviously disagreed with the amount of panicking,  _ not fine _ signals it was sending to his brain. 

_ Dirt, laughter _

“You’re fine.” 

_ Salt, grass _

“You’re fine.”

_ Hot breath, cold hands  _

“You’re… you’re...” 

_ “What, don’t want a turn?”  _

Harry heard himself crying. He just wasn’t sure if it was in memory or reality. Though, in all likelihood, it was both. 

________________

Harry was thankful for the freshing spell Hermione had taught him in second year. Harry cast the spell, trying as much as possible to avoid looking at himself in the mirror, and carried on as if nothing happened. Or, at least, he tried to. 

Harry would’ve blown off Snape’s orders if he thought the man would let him get away with just two days of detention alone. But, surely if Harry arrived at detention with his injury still there, he would serve detention and  _ then _ Snape would march him to the infirmary. 

Logically, Harry didn’t blame the Professor. He was a Professor, after all, and it was his job to make sure students weren’t in danger of dying. And it isn’t like Professor Snape hadn’t helped him before, though always doing so with as many insults and glares he could squeeze in. 

All in all, the infirmary trip wasn’t  _ nearly _ as bad as he thought it would be. 

“Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey tisked. “I’m engraving your name above that bed. Out with it, what trouble have we gotten into now?” 

“I fell in Quidditch practice,” Harry lied. Given time, he would’ve come up with a much better lie. But Malfoy had already heard this one. If there was one thing he knew about lying, it was to never tell more than one lie about the same thing. 

Madam Pomfrey gave him ‘the look’, the How-Are-You-So-Dumb-And-Still-Alive look that he was ever so accustomed to. Snape had the exact same look. So did Dumbledore, but it was always accompanied by pride when it was plastered on his face. 

“I tell them the Quidditch fields need cushioning charms every year,” Madam Pompfrey muttered, waving her wand around him. “And what do they tell me? A resounding no, every year.” 

“Any magic on the field would mess with the game,” Harry replied, a bit unhelpfully. But he had wanted to say  _ something _ instead of just sitting there. 

“Well the ground is messing with my patients!” Madam Pomfrey huffed. “It looks like a break, Mr. Potter, but… you said you got this injury today?” 

Pins went across his shoulders and he scrambled to think of something. “I mean, it’s actually been bothering me for a while but I actually fell a couple days ago.” 

“You should’ve come to me the second it happened,” she told him seriously. “If it’s been bothering you for a while, I suspect it might have been fractured and your fall is what shifted the bones. This was to heal without being treated, it could’ve been permanently debilitating.” 

Harry swallowed hard. So, it was a good thing his shoulder hadn’t healed yet. 

“Just let me…,” Madam Pomfrey stopped her, an annoyed expression crossing her features. “Mr. Potter, would you allow me to cast a diagnostic spell over you?” 

“What does that do?” She had never asked about casting spells over him before. 

“It’s a routine spell,” she told him briskly. “Just to pin-point the exact time of the initial fracture. The diagnostic spell allows me to conjure a sort of list that details any injuries you’ve had.” 

Harry froze. His hands felt cold. 

How was Harry supposed to tell her no without raising questions? 

He felt anger begin to simmer in his stomach. He had never thought about the Dursleys this much during a school year. He was basically covering for them since the day he set foot in Hogwarts and he hated it. But it was his goddamn life and if he wanted one thing private, one thing that no one would ever know about, it was that the wizarding world’s savior could be bested by muggles. 

“How far back does it go?” Harry asked, trying to sound curious rather than nervous. 

“As far as the caster wants,” Madam Pomfrey said. “I suspect the fracture is quite young to still be in this stage of healing. I’d cast the spell to, say, two months ago, just to make sure.” 

Well, that was wholly unacceptable.

Harry hated having to do this, but it was his only defense. Play the part most people cast him in - the bratty, entitled teenager. 

He crossed his arms and lit a defiant fire in his eyes. “Well, I don’t want it.” 

Madam Pomfrey looked taken aback and he winced internally. 

“Mr. Potter, it’s just routine.” 

“Well, I  _ just _ don’t want it,” Harry shot back. “Can you heal it without the spell, or not?” 

“Not as well,” she told him, frustration streaking across her face as the new attitude. 

“I don’t want to be here all day,” Harry complained. “I’ve got other things to do, you know.” 

“Dear…,” 

“I said I didn’t want any stupid spells,  _ Madam _ ,” Harry spat out, even though he wasn’t angry at Madam Pomfrey, he  _ was _ angry, and he let that bled through. “Just get on with it already.” 

Madam Pomfrey shook her head slightly. “Fine, then, Mr. Potter. But be wise to the fact I’ll be informing your head of house about this disrespectful behavior.” 

“Fantastic,” Harry grumbled, more for the show than anything else. 

He’d send Madam Pomfrey an apology card next week, writing about how frustration and pain had influenced his behavior and he’d never be disrespectful to her again. She’d forgive him and they’d both forget about in a couple weeks. 

And hopefully, she’d never ask again. 

__________________________

  
  


The eternal beings of the universe must have had a meeting in which they devised the best plan to mess with Severus Snape. That was the only logical explanation he could think of to how his Godson, out of the world’s billions of people and creatures, had picked Harry-bloody-Potter to be his Life Mate. 

He had looked back on his memory between the two boys and honestly, didn’t like what he found. He remembered Draco’s devastation at his friendship being rejected by Potter. He remembered Draco asking to be a seeker the year after Potter became one. He remembered Draco sneaking out to follow Potter and his little friends into the woods. 

He remembered Draco’s reason for the last one -  _ I was just trying to make sure he was safe! _

Severus had thought it was a child’s desperate, lying excuse for his behavior. But now he wasn’t so sure. 

“Good evening, Poppy,” Severus greeted upon reaching his destination. He pulled out two vials and handed them to the Medi-witch. “For the wolf.” 

“Good evening,” she said tiredly. “Thank you for these, Severus. Remus truly appreciates it.” 

“As I have been told.” 

“How’s Draco doing?” Madam Pomfrey asked, her eyes losing a bit of the tiredness in favor of a sparkle. 

“He’s adjusting very well,” Severus assured, a touch of pride entering his tone. “His Veela has chosen a Life Mate.” 

“Oh?” 

“Potter.” 

Poppy stared for a moment before a smile broke over her face and she laughed. “Oh, Severus, I’m sorry. Truly. Ha… would you like a hug?” 

“I would not attempt such a thing,” Severus warned her. “I’m thrilled you find this all so amusing.” 

“Can you blame me?” Poppy wiped at her eyes. “Harry was just in here today, as a matter of fact.” 

“Ah, excellent,” Severus said. “He did come after all.” 

“You sent him my way?” Poppy asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “I don’t know what had gotten into that boy though. He’s usually so polite.” 

“He was rude to you?” Severus asked, a glare resting about his features. Of any school, the potion master and healer had to have a close working relationship. However, Poppy had been his personal friend for many years now. If Potter had been so mad at being sent to the infirmary to take his anger out on Madam Pomfrey, he’d be scrubbing cauldrons for a week. 

“Not at first, no,” Poppy considered. “His shoulder injury looked a bit older than a couple days. I wanted to run a diagnostic charm.” 

“And you had to ask.” Severus finished for her. Damn the ministry and damn the Y.M.P.O. This is exactly what such an order did - rips a child’s medical care out of the hands of trained healers. 

“I suppose he thought it was unnecessary,” Poppy sighed. 

“I’m sure Potter thinks most responsible things are unnecessary.” 

“Don’t let Draco catch you talking like that,” Poppy smiled. “Godfather or not, he wouldn’t stand for it.” 

“I’m unfortunately aware.” 

“Try to see the good in it all, Severus,” Poppy said to him. “Harry may be James’s son, but he is also Lily’s. And if you think for one moment Lily wouldn’t be over the moon that her son is to be bonded with your Godson, you didn’t know the girl at all.” 

Oh, he had no doubts that Lily was laughing at him from beyond the grave. The only pleasure he got in thinking about that was the fact that James Potter would be horrified. Perhaps this was his repayment to her, his penance. 

“I’m afraid he didn’t inherit much from her,” Severus said. 

“On the contrary,” Poppy laid a hand on his arm. “He has her eyes; he has her soul.” 

“For Draco’s sake, I hope you’re correct.” 

______________________________

“It. Is. A. Trap. Harry. There - how much clearer do I need to get!” Ron threw his hands up. “The  _ Malfoys _ \- plural! Invited you to a secret meeting with the Headmaster? Trap!” 

“But it is with the Headmaster,” Hermione pointed out. “I doubt they’d try anything in front of him.” 

“What would they even want?” Harry asked, not for the first time. “I  _ bet _ it’s got something to do with Malfoy’s ‘change of heart’.” 

“Yeah, mate, that’s just creepy,” Ron said. “Malfoy? Nice? I don’t buy it for a second.” 

“Between him,” Harry started ticking things off with his fingers. “Saving our potion, acting concerned when I fell, barely insulting me all year, losing his shit when I ‘fell’ from the Astronomy Tower…” 

“Language, Harry,” Hermione said, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “And you can’t really fault him for the last one. I think seeing  _ anyone _ fall from the Astronomy Tower would be terrifying.” 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “It was more than that. I just. I don’t know how to explain it. Even when he saw that I was fine, he touched my arm, liking he had to be  _ sure _ I was alive.” 

“Well whatever’s up with him, we’ll figure it out. Count on it,” Ron said before considering an idea. “I could sic the twins on him. They’d have it worked out within the hour!” 

“Orrrr,” Hermione started, like she always did when suggesting something both intelligent and someone nobody wanted to do. “You could just go to the meeting and find out yourself. He said you could invite someone, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Professor Lupin would be the obvious choice,” Hermione said, ignoring Ron’s protest of “what about us!”. “He’s basically family to you.” 

It was funny how much ‘basically family’ Harry had without having any  _ actual _ family. 

“You’re right, Hermione,” Harry said. “I think I’ll probably end up going.” 

“Harr-y!” Ron whined. “Both of you have gone bloody mental.” 

“Ron,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “The  _ Headmaster _ and Professor Lupin won’t let anything happen to Harry.” 

“Nothing visible,” Ron muttered but was, as he often was when muttering, ignored. 

Malfoy - the prat - had been fishing when he gave Harry the meeting’s time and place. And by Merlin, if that wasn’t tempting bait. A meeting between Draco, the Headmaster, and his parents. Harry tried to rack his brain if he had done anything  _ that _ offense towards Malfoy. But if this was him getting into trouble, wouldn’t he just be sent there by a professor? 

Then it clicked. And everything began to make sense. 

The Malfoys were  _ defecting  _ from Voldemort. That had to be it. Why else would Malfoy be so nice to him? Why else would his parents want to talk to him? Why else would Malfoy have  _ freaked out _ when he thought he almost died? 

Because they were siding with Harry in this war. If Harry died at this point, they were all screwed. 

It left a bitter, but not unfamiliar, taste in his mouth. He had wondered briefly if Malfoy was just growing out of being a prat. But no, another three people had sided with him. To another three people, he stopped being Harry and stepped into the role of Savior. Another three people were about to ask him to win this war and they were about to sign up to die for him. 

With that in mind, Harry made up his mind. Even if they were  _ Malfoys _ , he wouldn’t let them down. He couldn’t let any more people down then he already had.

Harry went to the meeting and he didn’t invite Professor Lupin. 

_____________ 

Harry shook out his hands before walking into the Headmaster’s office. He refused to show the Malfoys any weakness, especially if his theory was correct. Like it or not, the Malfoy’s money and influence would be an asset to the light. And if they were meeting with the Headmaster, chances were he already knew and accepted it. Harry refused to make them second guess themselves. 

“Leopard Lollys,” Harry spoke the password and the Headmaster’s staircase revealed itself. The point of no return, Harry climbed the stairs. 

Harry felt like he had walked into an intervention. Every eye turned to look at him once he was in the room. The three silver-haired Malfoys were standing by Dumbledore’s fireplace. Lucius looked like he always did, if maybe a bit dressier. His long hair was pulled back in a braid and he was without his trademark cane. Ms. Malfoy (Harry didn’t think he had ever heard her name) was in a long, Slytherin green dress that matched her husband. 

And Draco. He looked… nice, actually. His hair slicked back, but not nearly as tightly as it usually was. He was wearing black pants and a silver shirt, something much nicer than he usually wore around the school. His eyes seemed… brighter than they usually did. 

Was dressing up a pureblood tradition in switching sides during a possibly world-ending war? Harry wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore called, walking over to him. At least he was dressed normally - well, as normally as Dumbledore usually dressed. “Come in, we have exciting matters to discuss.” 

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily, stepping further into the room. Was he really that interesting to look at? Why were the Malfoys just staring at him? 

They were probably trying to figure out how they ever thought this scrawny kid was going to defeat the most powerful dark wizard the world had to offer. Well, he didn’t know either. 

“Hi,” he said to the others. He knew it was lame, but what else was he going to do? Bow deeply and express his dearest thanks at being invited? He shivered at the thought. 

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” Ms. Malfoy was the first to speak. She stepped forward and extended her hand, which Harry took. “I hope the weekend finds you well.” 

“Yeah,” Harry dropped his hand. “You too, eh, Ma’am.” 

“Please, Narcissa will do fine.” 

Her name was Narcissa? Harry just held back a bubble of laughter. No wonder Malfoy was just a  _ Narcissist _ . He didn’t think pointing that out right then would be the best idea, but he stored it away for later. 

“Then Harry’s fine, too,” he said. He felt like he was tip-toeing in a minefield of etiquette he didn’t know and would have loved for Dumbledore to save him. 

As if the man had read his mind… which might've been what happened, knowing Dumbledore...the professor began talking. 

“Harry,” he said, a twinkle lighting up his eyes. “Would you like to sit while we speak? I could have Friz snatch us a few chocolate biscuits.” 

“No… thanks,” Harry really didn’t want to extend this. He certainly didn’t want to eat chocolate biscuits with the Malfoys. “I already know why we’re here anyway.” 

“You do?” Draco spoke for the first time, his eyes going slightly wide. 

Well, Harry had thought he did. But the way Draco asked made Harry’s resolve waver. 

“I… well,” Harry scanned the crowds. He was either about to be right or about to offend everyone in the room, all for different reasons. “I was thinking you want to join the light?” 

Draco’s eyebrows twitched together before a very, very familiar expression crossed his face. “What makes you think we  _ aren’t _ on the light’s side?” 

“Would you like a list?” 

“I would, actually. It’d be an empty piece of parchment.” 

“So it’d be like your head?”    


“ _ Boys! _ ” The Headmaster’s voice cut in and silenced them both. “Please.” 

Harry looked over at Draco’s parents although… he didn’t see the fire he expected at him insulting their kid right in front of them. If anything, they looked rather amused. Even though Harry knew he had instigated that and he had basically called all three Malfoy’s Death Eaters. 

“So,” Harry looked between them. “That’s not it?” 

“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I assure you that the Malfoys have been with our cause from nearly the beginning.” 

Harry saw Lucius wince, just barely, at the ‘nearly’. 

“Then what’s all this about?” Harry crossed his arms. He was getting tired of this guessing game. 

Draco took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Potter, do you know what a Veela is?” 

That was not even on the list of topics he suspected this meeting was about. 

“Uh,” Harry racked his brain. “Fluer was a Veela, wasn’t she?”

“She had Veela blood,” Draco agreed. “But she wasn’t an actual Veela. The Veela are wizards or witches who inherit a… magic that changes certain aspects of their own magical core. Both of my parents are Veela.” 

“Okay…,” where was this going? 

“Two days ago,” Draco’s eyes found his. “I inherited it as well. And Veela, they choose a Life Mate upon turning if they have already met that person.” 

Harry’s eyes drifted to Dumbledore before going back to Draco. “Okay? Do you want my opinion on it or something?” 

But Draco and the rest just kept staring, expectantly. 

Then it clicked. 

Harry shook his head, his mouth half open before Lucius nearly shouted. 

“Wait!” The man stepped beside his son. “Mr. Potter, please wait.” 

“I’m not-”

“Harry,” Dumbledore cut in. “I encourage you to think about it before you deny Mr. Malfoy. Denying a Veela outright can be devastating to them.” 

Harry looked at Draco and saw something he never thought he would. Draco was  _ scared _ . What would happen if Harry told Draco where to stick it right then? Would he… whatever would happen, Lucius was clearly terrified of it. 

“I’m not...denying,” Harry held his hands up as if Draco was going to explode at his very words. Which, by the way everyone was acting, didn’t sound unlikely. “But, I don’t understand.” 

“Here,” Draco took a book from the corner of Dumbledore’s desk and handed it to him. “This book details all you need to know about… all of this. I know we’ve always… well, hated each other. But I’m trying to make a good second-first impression, if you would allow me.” 

Then Draco extended his hand. Harry’s mind flashed back to the first time he ever met the Slytherin. He remembered rejecting this very offer the only other time it was made. A second-first impression, huh? Harry would love to get a couple of those. 

Even though he wasn’t sure what all this was… it wasn’t as if he had stock in wanting to hate Malfoy. If he wanted a second-first impression, Harry could do that. 

Harry grabbed Draco’s warm hand with his own and shook. 

“Harry Potter,” he said, as if meeting for the first time. 

“Draco Malfoy,” the other boy was smiling and any doubts about this being real flew out the window. 

“Oh, Lucius.” 

Harry looked over at the whisper. Draco’s mother had tears in her eyes, her hand on her husband’s arm. This… this really was a big deal, wasn’t it? 

Ron was going to  _ lose his mind _ . 

Harry turned over the book:  _ A Complete Guide to Veela Traditions and Mates  _

“So…,” Harry said. “Is there a timeline on this accepting or denying bit?”

Not that Harry was ever planning on accepting. Draco could find himself another mate. 

“No timeline, Harry,” Draco was quick to say. He thought it would be weird to hear Draco say his name, but oddly enough, it just sounded natural. “And you don’t have to accept it, ever, if you don’t want to. I just ask that you keep an open mind.” 

Harry nodded, he could live with that. “But you won’t… die or anything if I don’t, will you?” 

“No,” Draco shook his head. “I don’t want you to think you have to accept this because of me. I will be… fine, either way. Heartbroken, perhaps, but fine. I want to earn your acceptance, Harry. I’d like you to allow me to try.” 

Hearing Malfoy say he would be ‘heartbroken,’ wasn’t something Harry thought he’d ever hear him say. Still… Malfoy had no idea how much what he just said meant to Harry. He was - maybe - the first person to ever want something from Harry and not just take it or convince him to give it. He wanted to  _ earn _ it. 

Being enemies with Draco had always been… interesting. How would being friends be? Well, if Draco wanted the chance to see how it would turn out… 

That, Harry could give him. 

“Alright, Draco.” 

_____________________________________

“Foolish child!” Severus snapped at him. He was pacing in front of the couch where Draco was sitting. 

Clearly, his parents had informed his Godfather about today’s meeting. 

“I didn’t want to pressure him,” Draco defended. 

“Lying is better then?” 

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth. I won’t die on sight if he rejects me.” 

“But you will die, Draco,” his Godfather softened his voice. “It would break you. Potter needs to understand that.” 

“Harry has a thing about saving people, if you haven’t caught on,” Draco explained, unable to keep a bit of resentment from his tone. He didn’t expect Severus to fully understand - the man wasn’t a Veela, after all. Draco wanted, more than anything, for Harry to accept him. But he didn’t want that acceptance to come from a place of sympathy or duty. “I don’t want him to say yes because he’s worried I’d die.” 

He wanted Harry to see this as a blessing, not a curse. 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Draco…,” 

“And I know you see what I’m saying,” Draco told him, before quietly adding. “How many children have you counseled that defended their parents because they feared that if they told you, they would hurt their family?” 

“This is far from the same thing, Draco.” 

“Is it?” Draco asked rhetorically. “At this moment, this is a one sided relationship. The only reason, at this moment, that Harry would accept would be to protect my life. I want him to accept because he enjoys my company, because he wants to be around me… because he loves me. Until those things are true, I’d much rather him stay distant.” 

“You’re better than he deserves,” Severus shook his head, but Draco knew he understood. 

“Don’t be so sure,” Draco said. “Overall, he took it pretty well. He didn’t reject me outright, at least. He even shook my hand and allowed me to call him by his name.” 

“Did he?” Apparently, that had not been shared with his Godfather. 

“He did,” Draco confirmed, finding Severus’s eyes. “It was our  _ second-first impression _ . I think it went pretty well, considering.” 

“If you think for a moment I’m having a ‘second-first impression’ with Potter, allow me to escort you to Madam Pomfrey.” 

“I wouldn’t dare ask,” Draco said dryly. “Uncle, how much about Harry’s home life do you know about?” 

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?” 

“It’s just…,” Draco rubbed the back of his neck, thinking how best to approach this delicate topic. “He didn’t invite anyone to the meeting.” 

“As I’ve said, the boy lives with muggles,” Severus sneered at the mention of them. 

“Right,” Draco tapped his fingers against his leg. 

“I assume you don’t like this fact?” 

“I don’t want to insult him,” Draco said. “But the thought of him living with muggles just… it doesn’t sit well with me at all.” 

Severus inclined his head. The man became thoughtful, and for this, Draco was grateful. Draco knew Severus was not a big fan of Harry. It was amazing really, how the man adjusted his tone about Harry around him, just to keep from upsetting him. He didn’t know the whole story, but he knew Harry’s father had been a right bastard to his uncle - and everyone else for that matter. Severus didn’t speak about Harry’s mother, but Draco knew that he was friends with her. Though, Draco had long suspected it was much more than that. 

“Potter stays with the muggles because of powerful blood wards around their house,” Severus told him, after a moment. Draco listened intently - the way Severus was choosing his words sounded like he was dancing around a secret. “I’m told they spoil him more than one of Hagrid’s pests. However, the boy might be persuaded away from this if he was offered something better.” 

“Better how?” Draco certainly wasn’t against the idea of spoiling his mate. 

“Training,” Severus nodded, mulling the idea. “And perhaps visitation with his Godfather.” 

“His Godfather?” Draco blinked. “I didn’t know he had one.” 

“It’s an… involved story.”

“I want to know,” Draco said with certainty. 

He had a feeling there was a lot more mystery around his mate then most people thought. 

________________________________

_ Typically a Veela will come into their inheritance between the ages of 17-23.  _

So Draco was an early bloomer, then? 

Harry balanced the book on his knee. He was sitting beside the lake, where he often came to think - or talk to Luna and snakes, apparently. He had wanted to get at least a little understanding about this all before going to Ron and Hermione with this information. 

_ However, the turning can be catalyzed by frequent physical contact with one’s future Life Mate or seeing them injured. The earliest turning recorded has been one Ms. Felicity Ember at the age of seven.  _

Had his  _ shoulder injury _ triggered whatever the hell Mal- Draco was? 

_ When the turning takes place, the Veela will fall into a dream. They will either dream about themselves (if they have not met their intended) or they will dream about themselves and another person (their intended). If a Veela has no dreams at all, their intended has passed away. _

Harry winced. Had Draco known he was going to turn? Had he been scared about not dreaming at all? 

_ If possible, the newly awoken Veela will seek out their mate immediately and inform them of the newly created bond _ . 

Check. __

_ Being a Veela’s mate is considered one of the highest honors of the wizarding world. The Veela are, above all else, children of magic. When magic choses another to be their Life Mate, it signifies that not only is this person magically gifted, but also hold’s magic’s favor. _

Great. It didn’t  _ feel _ like he held magic’s favor, but whatever. 

_There are three essential aspects of the Life Bond - courting, acceptance, and consummation._

Harry’s eyes snapped up from the book. Draco wanted to… so this was a  _ relationship _ . Not just a… well, Harry wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but… seeing it laid out like that was jarring. Relationships had been the furthest thing from Harry’s mind lately. 

_ It is very rare for a Life Mate to reject a Veela’s offer. However, if this does occur, the Veela will inevitably fall into an irreversible state of depression. The Veela will typically live 2-5 years after they have been rejected. The leading cause of death for rejected Veela is sucide, recorded in 78% of cases, followed closely by starvation, recorded in 12% of cases.  _

So Draco  _ had _ lied to him. Not outwardly, but certainly by omission. ‘Heartbroken’ was hardly the correct word to describe this. Still. Draco knew all this - he knew the pain and suffering being rejected would cause him. The Draco he knew was not a selfless person. 

But this - glossing over the devastation rejection would cause him just to give Harry a fair choice - that was pretty damn selfless. 

78% of rejected Veela offed themselves. He understood why Draco’s father had been so panicked at the meeting and why Dumbledore had intervened. Harry closed the book. He had read enough for now. 

___________________________ 

  
  


Ron did  _ not _ react how Harry expected. In fact, he seemed to have Ron and Hermione’s reactions flipped. 

“How can you be so calm about this, Ronald!” Hermione whisper-yelled at him. 

The three were in the Gryffindor common room - empty of people, full of arguing. 

“‘Mione,” Ron tried to explain again. “Malfoy’s a bloody  _ Veela _ , now! He’d rather die than hurt one hair on Harry!”

“So years of hatred just go away? Just like that?” She asked, looking at the red-head like he had gone stupid. 

“Well, yeah,” Ron shrugged. 

“How you of all people are on  _ Malfoy’s  _ side...”

“I’m not on anyone’s bloody side!” Ron pushed back, glaring at the girl across from him. “I hate Malfoy as much as the next Gryffindor, okay? You know that. I think he’s an arrogant, rich, full-of-himself prat.” 

“Then  _ why _ are you defending him?” 

“Because he’s also a Veela,” Ron told her seriously. “There are just things you pick up on when you live with a magical family. Everyone knows that being a Veela is serious and being a Veela’s Life Mate is serious.” 

Hermione sighed. “Harry?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “I didn’t get the impression Malfoy was lying.” 

“Will you accept, then?” Hermione asked. 

“Hermione!” Ron’s voice rose. “You can’t just ask a Life Mate if they’re going to accept or not!” 

“Why not?” Harry asked. 

“Because - because you just don’t  _ ask _ that,” Ron looked scandalized, the tips of his ears tinted pink. 

“Here,” Harry dug into his bag and pulled out the book. He handed over to Hermione. Harry wasn’t sure how much more of it he could read. Perhaps it would be better hearing it through the medium of Hermione’s balanced eyes. “I didn’t read much of it, but Draco gave it to me.” 

“Draco?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Never heard you call Malfoy ‘Draco’.” 

“I was being honest when I said I wasn’t denying him outright,” Harry said. “It just… a lot.” 

“Finally,” Hermione turned the book over in her hands. “Agreement.” 

“Ron?” Harry asked, his voice quieter. “Does this mean… would you say Draco… wants to, eh, date me then?” 

“Mate,” Ron said slowly, and carefully. “I’d say Malfoy loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in the world. He’d drop to a knee and marry you right now if you asked.” 

Harry sat back with a groan, as if the information was a weight he now had to learn to bear. “So this… Veela or whatever. This inheritance makes him feel like that?” 

“Nothing’s  _ making _ him feel any sort of way,” Ron insisted. “You should talk to Charlie about it more. It’s hard to explain but…  _ Malfoy _ and his Veela are the same person, you know. And he’s  _ always been _ a Veela, he just didn’t know it for sure. He’s always loved you, he just hasn’t known what it was… now can I please stop explaining how much Malfoy loves you? For my sanity?” 

_ He’s always loved you, he just hasn’t known what it was. _

Was that why Malfoy hated him? Fought with him? Competed endlessly with him? 

He didn’t know what to do with the information that someone loved him. The only other person he thought  _ might _ love him was Sirius. Though, Sirius hadn’t been around him for any real length of time in fourteen years. He’d probably love him in time, but… Draco loved him now, if what Ron said was true. 

But, what, exactly did that mean? It wasn’t like anyone had ever loved him before, not anyone he could remember. 

“Harry,” Hermione called his eyes to her. “Malfoy’s a prat and he always will be a prat. But, whatever you choose, we’re behind you, okay?” 

“Thanks, guys,” Harry said, smiling. “If I asked Draco to apologize to the both of you, would he?” 

“He’d fall over himself to do it,” Ron nodded, eyes wide. “I’d bet on him doing just about anything you ask right now.” 

Huh, Harry wondered if Ron was right. But this decision was not one he would come to easily. It would be a process with thousands of invisible steps, forward and backwards. 

He supposed it was a waiting game and the next move was in Draco’s hands. 

_________________________________________ 

The first step had come the first day, with a note beside his bed. At first, he had freaked out about how Malfoy could have possibly gotten into the Gryffinor dorms, until Ron sleepily reminded him of ‘house-elf-go-back-to-sleep-harry’. 

But Harry hadn’t gone back to sleep. He had sat there and carefully broken the silver wax seal, imprinted with a snake and unfolded the letter. 

_ Harry,  _

_ If your shoulder is feeling up to it, would you join me for Quidditch practice after today’s classes?  _

_ ~ Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Most Talented Seeker _

Oh, that  _ prat _ knew what he was doing, signing the letter like that. As if Harry would pass up a chance to show him that he  _ clearly _ wasn’t Hogwarts best seeker. 

Harry had joined him that day, and from there, they had made a weekly thing out of it. 

“2-4,” Harry said, breathless, once they had landed. The golden snitch was wriggling in his hand. “Who’s Hogwarts most talented seeker, again?” 

“2- _ 3 _ ,” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Catching it between the post and your foot  _ cannot _ count.” 

“Oh, it counts.” 

“I want a second opinion.” 

“How about a rematch?” Harry suggested. “Next week, same place?” 

The light that spread across Draco’s face had been unexpected, but welcome. He could do this - be civil with the Slytherin. Even be friendly… give him the chance he had asked for. 

Besides, Draco was shaping up to be a pretty decent friend. 

________________________________

The next step had been the next potions class they had together. The most eventful part of it, was how uneventful it was. 

There was no laughter, no insults from the Slytherin side. They had worked among themselves and barely glanced in Harry’s direction. 

Snape wasn’t  _ nice _ , but he wasn’t belittling or harsh. He had given Harry at least  _ two _ helpful tips on his potion. The potion was still slightly off, but much better than it would have been. Draco had said nothing to him, except greeting him when he walked in and wishing him a good day when he walked out. 

Maybe being the Slytherin’s Prince’s Life Mate wouldn’t be so bad. 

_________________________ 

The very next morning, he had woken up to another letter and a box that contained a very expensive and complicated potions set. 

_ Harry, _

_ The key to successful potion-brewing is proper equipment. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of upgrading yours. This is the same model I use. _

_ Yours, Draco Malfoy  _

Yes, Draco had taken to signing his letter’s off as ‘yours’. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

__________________

The biggest step had come a few weeks later. 

Draco had been sending him letters almost daily, to the point he would roll over to check his night stand every morning before he even stood up. They had been practicing together every week and had even had two matches against each other. One Gryffindor had won because Harry caught the snitch and another Slytherin had won because no one had caught the snitch and their guard was bloody good. 

Hermione had seemed to come around after tearing through the book Harry had lent her. Everything seemed… good. Everything felt normal, even. Fights with Draco were replaced with friendly banter, glares in the hallway were replaced with nods. The school seemed to know - everyone and their brother had congratulated Harry. 

His defense classes with Lupin and the younger years kept him busy when he wasn’t in class or doing homework. He greatly appreciated how much time that ate up. 

But, there was still the tsunami looming over his head that was summer. Everyday he got closer to it. He had been working on the illusion spell - far away from the Astronomy Tower - but he wasn’t making as much progress as he would have liked. Perhaps it was because he had his ‘plan’ on his mind all day, or perhaps it was some other force sent down to cause him misery. 

Either way, he had woken up with a muffled scream. Harry pressed his palms to his eyes, feeling tears leak between the fingers. It was the worst nightmare he had in a long time. His shoulder ached, despite the fact it was fully healed, and his chest labored with silent sobs. 

That’s when the next step happened. Because at that moment, he just wanted to go practice Quidditch with Draco and forget about everything else. 

________________________

Draco was walking on air. 

He had just sent Harry his latest letter. 

_ Harry,  _

_ Meet me outside the Great Hall after dinner? I have a proposal for you.  _

_ Yours, Draco Malfoy _

That should grab his attention. 

“You think he’ll accept?” Draco asked, not for the first time. 

Blaise shrugged. “He doesn’t usually go home for the winter holidays anyway, does he? I don’t see why not.” 

“Why not is because he thinks us lot are a bunch of Death Eaters,” Pansy grumbled. 

“Can you blame him?” 

“Blaise!”

“Just saying,” Blaise said. “A good lot of our parents did follow the Dark Lord, at first at least.” 

“Well, still,” Pansy said. “I think it’ll be a hard sell.” 

“I’ll tell him he can floo back any time he likes,” Draco paused. “I just… I want him  _ away _ from those muggles.” 

“Draco,” Blaise started, donning his rational voice. “‘Those muggles’ are his family, you know. Whether you like it or not. If you’re not careful how you talk about them, Potter will never accept you.” 

Draco glared. “I’m aware. I don’t have to like it, do I?” 

“No,” Blaise agreed easily enough. The boy would make a brilliant politician. “Merlin knows I wouldn’t. But you’ve got to remember these are the people who raised him.” 

“I know, I know,” Draco said, taking his feet down from the couch. “I just hope he won’t expect me to have dinner with them.” 

Pansy pulled a face, but Blaise pushed on. 

“If he asked, would you say no?” 

“Of course I wouldn’t bloody say no, Blaise,” Draco huffed. “That’s not the point. The point is that I don’t like it.” 

“As you’ve made abundantly clear,” Pansy looked over at them. “But it’s been going well so far, has it not?” 

“It has,” Draco’s lips fell into a soft smile. “Much better than I expected.” 

“Then it might be time to push a little further,” Blaise advised. “Let him get comfortable, then push him a little more.” 

Pansy stiffed her laughter with a hand to her mouth. “That’s all, huh?” 

“You’re insufferable,” Blaise rolled his eyes. 

“Hey,” Draco said with false seriousness. “That’s my mate you’re talking about.” 

Pansy looked startled for a moment before she caught on that Draco was joking, then she threw a pillow at him. Draco caught it easily enough, but it didn’t have much force behind it. 

“Hey, watch it,” Blaise muttered. “I’m not having a repeat of first year.” 

Pansy laughed and Draco joined with a smile. A young Pansy and Draco had the brilliant idea of cheering up their often sad friend with a pillow fight. There wasn’t one pillow in its proper place once they were done. Severus hadn’t been too pleased, but he’d softened his resolve when he learned why they had done it. It was only a few days after his Godfather had found out about the abuse Blaise had been suffering, and if anyone needed cheering up, it was him.

More than anything, Draco wanted to share moments like that with Harry. To cheer him up when he was feeling down, to sit with him in front of a particularly wonderful sunset, to just be near him and share in his memories. He could feel the bond, settled around him, interwoven in his magic. It wasn’t happy at the limited contact he had with his mate, but Draco ignored it. 

Really the only time he touched Harry was when they bumped into each other during Quidditch practice. His Veela did not find that acceptable, but Draco could live with it. If his mate was willing to give him this chance, he was waiting as long as it took to earn his affection. 

Now he just had to figure out how to convince Harry to come to his home over the winter holidays. He would show him the side of the Malfoys he didn’t hear from school rumors or the press. He’d see his mother’s touch in every room, his father’s papers on nearly every surface imaginable. He’d see that this could be his home, too. 

__________________________

  
  


Severus looked over his tea cup at his distressed friend. Not that Severus could blame him. 

“I couldn’t say no to Draco.” 

“Lucius, you have never been able to say no to Draco.” 

Lucius didn’t even waste his worrying energy on retorting. “But having Harry Potter at my manor? How am I supposed to explain that?” 

“Explain it to who?” Severus asked. “The press already knows about Draco’s inheritance, as does Dumbledore. As, I am sure, does the Dark Lord.” 

Lucius sat down in the chair across from his, sinking deep into the cushions. “We know the Dark Lord is working mainly underground.” 

Severus nodded. 

“But he knows Malfoy Manor used to be a safe haven for him,” Lucius sighed. “I’m told he was different, when he came back.” 

“I was told he was weak.” 

“They say Potter got the better of him with ease,” Lucius recalled. “No matter how powerful that child is, the Dark Lord I knew wouldn’t have been beaten that easily.”

“Perhaps,” Severus started slowly, gaining his friend’s gaze before continuing. “Perhaps it’s time you took a public stance against him.” 

“Outright defecting?” Lucius shook his head at the madness of it all. “I promised myself, I promised Narcissa, that we were done with his - his war games the day we found out she was expecting.” 

Severus remembered that day. He remembered his friend becoming distant from ‘the cause’ and asking him about it. He remembered what he said:  _ I want to tell our child stories that will make them proud of us _ . Severus, the idotic youth he had been, had been offended on his Lord’s behalf. But out of respect for Lucius, he had said nothing. 

Then he had gotten Lily killed and he had only Lucius to turn to. 

“A child can certainly change our perspective,” Severus told him. “And so can a mate. It would undoubtedly make a statement to the boy, if you were to publicly denounce the Dark Lord.” 

Lucius pressed his hands together and put them against his lips. “I’ll have to speak to Narcissa about it. I’m assuming you wouldn’t join me?” 

“We are at a critical place in this war,” Severus said. “My position is too valuable to abandon now. Since Draco is legally my Godson, visiting him would be merely saving face in the Dark Lord’s eyes. I would have to speak rather harshly of you to him.” 

Lucius smirked. “Perhaps it’ll help get all your anger out on how insufferable I can be at times.” 

“It’s truly the only silver lining.” 

Lucius stood up again. “Would you mind staying with us as well?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Is my presence supposed to make the brat more comfortable?”

“I was thinking more in the way of protection,” Lucius said. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s quite a big manor. I doubt you’ll bump into Potter much. It’s not only Dark wizards I’m worried about, Severus. I’m certain there are a fair number of Light wizards none too happy about Potter’s new intended.” 

Severus nodded his assent. He knew this was completely new territory for the Malfoys, although it was for him as well. “I have four snakes staying at the castle this holiday, but none of them require special attention. I’m sure Professor Flitwick would be more than happy to watch over them.” 

“Thank you, my friend. Draco will appreciate it as well.” 

The child better appreciate the effort Severus was putting into this… niceness around Potter. He had already had to watch one person he loved fall for a Potter with messy black hair and a despicable attitude. Now he had to watch it happen all over again. Well, he would be damned if this situation turned out the same way as the last. 

If he had attempted to make nice with James… would Lily still be alive? He had apologized to her and she had accepted, because that’s how she was. She asked him to come visit her sometime… her and James. Severus was sure he physically recoiled at the request. But, if he had tried, would he have been around that night to hear the prophecy? If he had been just a little more mature, would Lily be speaking to the Malfoys about her son visiting them? 

Severus would never know, but he refused to make the same mistake with Draco. He also refused to let Potter abuse the privileges and power this bond have him over his Godson. Perhaps staying for the winter holiday would be best - for all parties. 

_______________________


	3. New Places, Same Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support! Enjoy!

**Chapter Three - New Places, Same Faces**

Draco was pleased to find Harry waiting for him outside the Great Hall, flanked by the other two in the Golden Trio, of course. His first act to show Harry his dedication was to apologize to his two friends, who thankfully accepted and even reciprocated. The smile on Harry’s face had been worth the ache in his pride. Since then, he had been on better terms with the two. 

“Good evening, Harry,” Draco greeted, inclining his head. “Granger. Weasley.” 

“Hey, Draco,” Harry smiled. 

“Malfoy,” Weasley said evenly. 

“Yes, good evening.” Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm. “Now we’ve got work to do, Ronald.” 

“But ‘Mione!” Ron whined. “What about Harry?” 

“Harry will be fine, as you’ve said yourself hundreds of times,” Hermione pulled him along. “I cannot  _ believe _ how badly you botched this assignment.” 

“Ron’s not great at Herbology,” Harry said as an explanation, watching the two walk away still fighting. 

“Do they always argue so much?” 

“It’s how they show their affection,” Harry shrugged. 

“Interesting way of doing things,” Draco responded. He was careful with his words. He knew Harry’s friends meant the world to him. “Walk with me?” 

“Sure,” Harry agreed and followed Draco. “Where are we headed?” 

“Just around,” Draco told him. A destination was not the goal of this walk. “Perhaps a lap around the courtyard and down to the lake?” 

“The lake is nice this time of night,” Harry agreed with certainty. Draco wondered if he spent a lot of time near the lake. 

Once they were a suitable enough distance from the school and all it’s ears, Draco went over how he was going to start this conversation. The first step, of course, was testing the waters. 

“Do you have anything exciting planned for the winter holidays?” 

“The…?” Harry looked over at him. “Oh, not really. I think Luna might be staying back too, so I’ll probably spend some time with her.” 

“That fourth year Ravenclaw?” 

“Luna,” Harry repeated. “She’s a friend.” 

“I see,” Draco said. “I’m going back home over the holidays, although we have no trips planned or anything of the sort. It’ll be a quiet two weeks.” 

“Sounds nice, actually,” Harry said, the water of the lake was just then coming into view. 

“Does it?” Draco turned to him, asking for his full attention. “I don’t want to be sly with you Harry. I asked you here because I want you to stay with me and my family this winter.” 

“I know,” Harry lifted a shoulder. “It’s three days until winter break. I had a pretty good idea of what you wanted to ask me.” 

“Oh,” Draco said. Did that make it a good sign Harry showed up? “And?”

“And I don’t know,” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. He didn’t exactly have on the warmest outfit, but Draco let it slide. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

“You couldn’t intrude, Harry,” Draco insisted. 

“You parents, well, your dad, at least, hates me.” 

“He doesn’t,” Draco said. “He’s got a… role to play, as we all have, but he doesn’t hate you.” 

“He literally tried to kill me my second year, Draco,” Harry said, almost with an air of humor. 

But Draco went still. Harry must have noticed the change in his face. 

“Draco?” 

“He did what?” Draco stepped closer. “What, exactly, did he do?” 

“Draco,” Harry put his hands up. “It’s fine, okay?” 

“It isn’t,” Draco said slowly. “Tell me.” 

“Promise you’ll calm down if I do?” 

“I’m not angry at you, Harry,” Draco said, just to ensure his mate understood. Why in Merlin’s name hadn’t he heard about this? “Please.” 

“He started to cast the killing curse - but Dobby stopped him before he could!” 

“Dobby?” Draco questioned before shaking his head. “Wait,  _ Dobby  _ stopped him? The house elf?” 

“Yeah?” Harry looked at him with cautious eyes. “I freed Dobby and your father was… less than happy about it.” 

Draco took a deep breath. “I understand. I’m sure it was a political stunt but  _ still…  _ I apologize on the Malfoys behalf that he scared you.” 

“I wasn’t scared,” Harry denied. “What kind of political stunt are you talking about?” 

“My father wasn’t happy when you freed one of our house elves,” Draco frowned, remembering the argument between him and Dumbledore well. “Letting you do that without retribution would’ve… not looked good for him. If he was saying that spell on Hogwarts grounds, I  _ severely  _ doubt he had any intention of casting it. Still… he shouldn’t have made you think he would do that.” 

Harry looked quizzical, like the concept that his father shouldn’t have made a  _ 12 year old _ think he was about to die wasn’t outrageous. He’d have to have a long talk with his father about this later. Merlin, if his  _ mother _ ever found out about this… 

“I don’t regret freeing Dobby, you know,” Harry narrowed his eyes. “Your father was a right jerk to him, you know that? Just because Dobby’s a house elf doesn’t give anyone the right to treat him like that.” 

Draco was walking through a minefield right then and he knew it. Harry was raised by muggles and he had a pretty solid sense of fair and unfair. 

“My parents act differently in public then they do at home,” Draco said, suddenly getting an idea. “My father is a massive worrier.” 

“What?” The evening light was reflecting off those big glasses that dwarfed his face, highlighting the curious spark in his eyes. 

“It’s true,” Draco nodded, allowing a smile. “He worries over everything. Me, especially. He’ll pace back and forth until there’s a beaten path on the rugs.” 

Harry got a smile of his own, which encouraged Draco to continue. Perhaps humanizing his father would help Harry decide. 

“He likes to talk when he’s worried, too,” Draco said. “Sometimes to me or my mother, but mostly just to himself.” 

Harry huffed a laugh. “I can’t picture  _ Lucius Malfoy _ pacing and muttering to himself.” 

“It’s a sight,” Draco agreed. “Worst I’ve seen him was the day I got a concussion.” 

“How’d you manage that?” 

“Well, you see,” Draco knew Harry was going to get a kick out of this story. “It was the summer after my first year and there was this rather talented young seeker chosen for the Gryffindor team.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Go on.” 

“I was… a bit obsessed with being better than him. I spent the majority of the summer training to be a seeker.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mh,” Draco looked over. “I wasn’t as  _ naturally _ talented, I suppose.” 

“You fell?” 

“More like I slammed into a wall,” Draco shrugged. “I was trying to do what I’d seen him do the first time he ever got onto a broom.” 

Harry laughed and suddenly telling that story had been worth every word. 

“Draco, I got  _ lucky _ .” 

“Either way,” Draco said. “My family’s manor  _ does _ have a full Quidditch field. You’d be welcome to use it as often as you’d like, if you were to spend the holiday with me.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“There’s no pressure,” Draco assured. “You’d sleep in a different room then me. Merlin knows we have enough to choose from. And if you hate it, you could always just floo back whenever you wished.” 

“Why do you want me to?” Harry asked. His voice was genuine. Like the thought someone wanted him around just to be there was foriegn. Draco frowned. 

“You’re my Life Mate.” 

Harry nodded and went to respond, but Draco wasn’t finished.

“But that isn’t why I want you to come. I want to get to know you, Harry, as a person. I really don’t know that much about you.” 

“Everyone seems to think they know everything about me.” 

“Well I don’t,” Draco said. “But I want to. I enjoy your company.” 

Harry nodded. “Can I think about it?” 

“All you’d like,” Draco said eagerly. 

“I’ll think about it,” Harry promised. 

And really, that was even more than Draco could ever wish for. 

________________________________________

  
  


“-well, I think that depends, Harry,” Professor Lupin was saying. 

“Depends on what?” Harry leaned back on Lupin’s couch. There was a plate of chocolate biscuits and tea in front of him, of which he was occasionally partaking. He was mildly sore from the last defense session with the first years before break. Those kids were  _ ruthless _ . And why Remus made the session so early in the morning, Harry would never know. 

“On your plans, long term,” Remus told him, pouring more tea into his cup. “Do you see your bond with Draco going anywhere?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “I’m not even sure I like guys.” 

“I do hear muggles make quite the fuss about that,” Remus said. “Peculiar. But it’s a very common relationship dynamic in the magical world.” 

“I guess,” Harry said. He did know they were a good lot of kids with same-sex partents at Hogwarts. They never seemed to have any problems discussing it. Nor did the kids in openly same-sex relationships. It wasn’t really the stigma Harry was worried about. “It’s just… frustrating. I don’t know what Draco wants and I don’t know what timeframe he wants it in.” 

“Have you asked him?” 

“He just says that there’s ‘no pressure’ and he wants whatever I’m willing to give,” Harry shook his head. “But I’m sure he wants  _ something _ , you know?”

“I can’t speak for Draco,” Remus advised. “But I would take his word for it. Werewolves also take mates - however, we can choose our mates and if our relationship ends or they pass away, we can find another mate. A Veela doesn’t work that way. A Veela has one mate, forever, and they don’t get a second chance. Even if you were to remain friends with Draco until the end of time, I believe he would be happy.” 

“He doesn’t… need more?” 

“I believe he needs you to be happy above anything else,” Remus said. “My advice to you would be to do whatever you feel comfortable with - don’t press it. All you boys have is time.” 

Was it? Because since the day Voldemort returned, Harry felt like a man living on borrowed time. 

“And if I wanted to spend the holiday with him?” 

“Then I would support you,” Remus smiled. “And Draco would be over the moon.” 

Harry thanked Remus for his advice and stayed just a bit longer, until the time forced him to say goodbye and head to breakfast. Not that he was overly hungry, but he needed to talk options with Ron and Hermione before class. 

And it was one of the only times he saw Draco throughout the day. 

Harry shook his head and walked into breakfast. There was a different air about the Great Hall that day. And Draco wasn’t sitting at the Slytherin table. Everyone seemed interested in the newspapers they usually threw out and were whispering among themselves. His eyes scanned over the hall and he couldn’t help but hope there wasn’t an attack. 

“Mate,” Ron pulled him down once he got close, shoving a newspaper under his nose. “You’ve got to read this.” 

Harry grabbed the paper from him, pushing it away from his face to see it better. 

**_LUCIUS MALFOY PUBLICLY DENOUNCES DARK LORD AFTER SON BONDED TO HARRY POTTER_ **

**Lucius Malfoy, long time suspected supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has denounced the evils of dark wizardry and the Death Eaters on the ministry floor this morning in a groundbreaking speech. It had been leaked from an inside Hogwarts source that Malfoy’s only child came into an early Veela inheritance and chose the Boy Who Lived as his Life Mate. These two undeniably related events come at a time of great unrest and mystery! More on the story as it develops.**

Lucius Malfoy… denounced Voldemort, publicly. Wow. 

“It’s incredible,” Hermione said from his left. “Draco left the hall once he saw it. He looked upset.” 

“He did?” Harry turned his eyes on her, already half out of his seat. 

“Harry!” 

Harry heard Hermione calling him, but he elected to ignore her. He knew he’d hear about it later. All he could think about was what was happening with Draco. Harry knew the way to the Slytherin dorms, having found it in second year. Although he didn’t have the privilege of a password this time. But he had to get to Draco. This - all of this - was his fault and he’d be damned if Draco got hurt because of it. 

“Password!” Spat the portrait. 

“I don’t have a password,” Harry tried to reason. “But I need to see my friend.” 

“Password.” 

“He’s upset!” Then Harry thought of something. “He’s a Veela and I’m his… Life Mate. I need to be able to see him.” 

“Pass. Word.” 

Harry threw up his hands. He needed to see Draco even if he had to break down this door. What if he was in trouble? Slytherin was riddled with Death Eaters and sympathizers. To speak out against people like that… 

He remembered the first time he had talked back to the Dursleys. He was fairly certain he had a severe concussion after his ‘chat’ with his uncle’s fist. But Death Eaters were nothing compared to the Dursleys and if Draco ran out like that, he was obviously  _ scared _ . Merlin, Harry needed to make sure. That panic he felt when he  _ knew _ the Dursleys were out for blood was twisting around his veins. 

Had Snape been in the great hall? Did he know - was he with Draco? Was Draco hurt? This was all his fault. 

Then he noticed the silver snake curled around the portrait’s legs. It had intelligent eyes, as much as a focal point of the painting as the man. Well, there was no harm in trying. 

_ “Good evening,” _ Harry addressed the snake. 

_ “A ssssspeaker!” _ The snake’s head shot up and the man looked startled.  _ “Are you not in my housssse, young ssssspeaker?” _

_ “I’m not,” _ Harry confirmed.  _ “But I need to sssssee my friend. Pleasssse.” _

_ “It’sssss an injusssstice upon thissss houssssse to keep a sssspeaker from usss,” _ the snake sounded quite outraged.  _ “You are alwaysssss welcome in Sssalazarsssss houssssse, friend of ssssnakesssss.” _

There was a click and the portrait swung open. Harry thanked the snake quickly and walked into the Slytherin wing. He’d have to remember that little trick for later. Once the black and green decor hit him, 

Harry swallowed hard. Draco’s Life Mate or not, Snape was going to kill him. 

He didn’t know what he expected. If he thought Draco would be waiting in the common room, he was sorely mistaken. It was largely empty, seeing as breakfast was still ongoing, but not completely abandoned. The dorms couldn’t be that different, Harry reasoned. He took the path that would roughly lead to the boy’s dorm in the Gryffindor commons. He hoped he would just run into the silver haired boy. 

Instead of Draco, he ran into a fifth year Slytherin he remembered as Blaise. Harry has seen the boy with Draco before, but he didn’t know how close of friends they were, if at all. 

“Potter?” Blaise stopped short, eyeing him like he was an illusion. “How the bloody hell did you get in here?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, suddenly very aware of exactly where his wand was and how fast it would take to reach it. “Where’s Draco?”

“Why?” 

“Because I need to see him, that’s why!” 

“Is that why?” Blaise glared. “Perhaps I should summon Professor Snape about a lion in the snake’s den? How’d you trick the portrait anyway?” 

Harry didn’t have time for this slew of questions. “I didn’t trick anyone.” 

“Right,” Blaise didn’t seem convinced. “Why should you get to see him - what are you to him?” 

“You know  _ exactly _ what I am to him!” Harry pushed back, though avoiding the words. “I’ll find him myself then.” 

“Wait,” Blaise said as he walked passed. The Slytherin sighed. “Upstairs, fourth room on the right.” 

Harry nodded and followed the directions, hoping they would lead to Draco and not Snape. He heard angry whispers once he got close to that door and he crept forward. He heard Draco’s voice first. 

“- was still blindsided,” he didn’t sound happy. 

“If you go out there now, they’ll likely kill you,” was that his mother? Her tone was hushed, but it was angry. And almost scared. 

Was she talking about the other Slytherins? 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” that was  _ definitely _ Draco’s father, his voice resolved. 

Well, it was  _ not _ a risk Harry was willing to take. Who were these fucking pureblooded people? Thinking they could just send their kid out to the wolves. Thinking it was a risk they were ‘willing to take’. Harry wasn’t having it. 

He grasped the handle and pushed the door open. 

He was confronted by the three Malfoys and… Professor Snape. Oh, this looked like an office. Snape’s office. With Snape in it, who had now traded his surprised look for a furious one. 

“Harry?” 

“Mister Potter!” 

Harry crossed his arms defiantly - he was not going to feel guilty about crashing a meeting to discuss the value of Draco’s life. 

“Harry…,” Draco stepped forward. “How did you get in here?” 

“The portrait let me in,” Harry said. It wasn’t even a lie. 

“Oh, I’m sure, Mister Potter,” if looks could kill… “You haven’t a  _ clue _ how much trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

“And what about all of you lot, huh?” Harry turned furious eyes on Lucius. “I heard what you were talking about and I can’t believe you would even  _ consider _ …” 

“Harry,” Draco brushed a hand against his arm. “What do you think we were talking about?” 

“About you,” Harry’s eyes bounced to everyone in the room. “About… how the Slytherins will react to what’s in the paper?” 

“Merlin, Harry,” Draco looked torn between amusement and worry. “We weren’t discussing  _ my _ safety. We were discussing my father’s.” 

“But…,” Harry started to get the feeling he had made a mistake. “Hermione said you ran out of the hall. She said you were upset.” 

“You came after me because you thought I was upset?” Draco asked, looking much too happy about it. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry told him, unfolding his arms. “You’re my friend.” 

Draco blinked and smiled. 

“Mr. Potter,” Lucius cut in. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, before the man could speak. He wanted to smooth this over as quickly as humanly possible. “I didn’t mean to assume anything.” 

“Well you-” 

Narcissa cut Snape off. “I want you to know, Harry, that we would never jeopardize our son’s life. While I wish you had understood that, I am proud that you came to Draco’s defense without hesitation. It’s a mark of a good man, to stand up for his friends.” 

Harry hadn’t been expecting such praise, but he nodded. Now, he definitely felt guilty. “Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

“Narcissa, dear.” 

“Why?” Harry turned his eyes to Lucius. “Why did you say what you did?” 

Lucius took a deep breath, suddenly looking much more human. More like the worrisome man Draco had described him. “I have been on the side of the light since the day I found out I was going to be a father. I used the influence I had already gained to give the light an upper hand. After the Dark Lord had been vanquished, there were whispers. I decided to stay in the loop because I thought it was best for my family.” 

Harry nodded. He could understand that. Maybe if his parents had more information, they would be alive too. 

“But now you are also a part of my family,” Lucius looked directly at him. “No matter what, you are my son’s Life Mate, which is as good as blood in my eyes.” 

Narcissa nodded her assent. “My eyes as well.” 

Harry swallowed. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. He didn’t know what to say to this. To these two serious, stuck up purebloods pledging that he was now a member of his family. Harry really wanted to avoid any more… emotions. 

“I’m not changing my surname,” Harry looked flatly at Draco. 

“Not even a hyphen?” 

“Not on your life.” 

“I’ll cry over it for weeks.” 

“While this is all quite touching,” Snape’s gaze swept him over. “It does not change the fact you have trespassed into the Slytherin dorms.” 

“But I didn’t!” Harry insisted. “It’s true I didn’t know the password, but… I asked the snake in the portrait and he let me through.” 

“That snake doesn’t talk,” Draco pointed out, rather unhelpfully. 

“I used Parslemouth,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that his bi-lingual ability was a touchy subject for most people. “The snake actually said I was always welcome in Salazar’s house, Professor.” 

“My friend,” Lucius stepped forward. “I cannot see Salazar’s snake  _ not _ letting a Parslemouth into the dorms.” 

Severus looked like he grudgingly agreed. “Fine, Potter. 15 points from Gryffindor for interrupting a private meeting. Your admission into these dorms are now restricted by  _ myself _ , even if Steshi allows it.” 

Harry could live with that. But that snake had been a painting of  _ Salazar's _ actual familiar - Steshi was his name? That was pretty cool. Snape had that controlled rage look plastered across his face - the same one his aunt got whenever Harry did something stupid around guests. It meant  _ I can’t murder you in front of these people, but just wait until they leave _ . 

Harry was not looking forward to his next class with the man, Draco’s mate or not. 

Draco seemed to sense the tension as well as him. “I’ll just walk Harry out, then.” 

“We’ll discuss this more over the holiday, son.” Lucius said and Narcissa echoed. “We will.” 

Draco nodded, grabbed Harry by the arm, and got the hell out of dodge. 

. . . 

“I cannot believe you did that,” Draco said once they were out of earshot. Draco had released his arms once they were heading the correct direction, which Harry was grateful for. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being manhandled. 

“Me neither,” Harry muttered. “I only expected to find you. Blaise could’ve warned me.”

“Blaise?” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll speak with him later.”

“So why were you upset?” Harry asked once they rounded the corner. 

“I wasn’t,” Draco said. “I just wanted to know what the bloody hell was going on. I suspect this was a rather last minute decision on my father’s part. It was actually… I assume it was something of a peace offering to you.” 

“To me?” 

“You’re the face of the light,” Draco told him. “He wanted you to know we’re behind you, without question.” 

“It certainly made a statement…,” Harry said. “Draco?” 

“Yes, Harry?” 

“Is the offer to spend the holidays with you still open?” 

“Always.” 

“Then I accept.” 

“You won’t regret it,” Draco looked over with a shine in his silver eyes. “Just don’t forget to pack your firebolt.” 

“How much practice do you need before you accept you’ll never be better than me?” 

“Backing out?” Draco leaned over to whisper. “Scared, Potter?” 

“You wish,” Harry could just barely contain a smile. 

So yeah, Draco was actually shaping up to be a pretty great friend. 

___________________________________ 

Draco was more than surprised about how his and Harry’s relationship had been progressing. It was only a bit over two months since his turning, and already he was spending the holidays with his intended. Draco thought, at first, that this ‘friendship’ he pushed for would be awkward and laced with longing for something more. 

But Draco couldn’t have been more wrong. As his father had told him, the foundation of any Veela’s bond is friendship with their intended. His parents were not an overly affectionate couple, but they were each other’s best friends, which was apparent to all who saw them together. They had their own silent language of smiles and nods and shrugs that had driven Draco to brink of insanity over the years. They knew almost everything about the other. Most holidays had the script of: 

_ Draco, don’t tell your mother I’m getting her this _

_ Draco, don’t tell you father I know what he’s getting me _

They were protective of each other, supportive of each other… they loved each other. That’s what he wanted with Harry. He could do without any other nonsense, if Harry could only offer friendship, Draco would take it like a deserted man to water. And if ever Harry would offer more, Draco would gladly accept. The point was, he had realized, he did  _ need _ more than Harry. Just Harry. 

He wondered (and a bit selfishly hoped) that Harry’s reaction to him being ‘upset’ was something unique. He knew Harry was loyal to a fault for those he considered friends - a list where Draco’s name now sat - but he still couldn’t help but be utterly giddy about it. 

“Harry,” Draco called. The boy was standing in the snow with all the other kids waiting for their parents to come pick them up for the holidays. His glasses were slightly frosted on the tips and his cheeks were pink with the cold. His trunk was leaning against his hip and Draco hoped the insufferable Gryffindor had packed enough for the holiday. 

His mother would have a field day if he hadn’t. 

“Draco,” Harry grabbed the trunk by the handle and walked over to meet him. “I wasn’t sure where to wait.” 

“Oh,” Draco had forgotten to address that in his letter. “Here was fine. We just need to walk outside the castle wards to apparate. My father’s already here.” 

Harry nodded and followed behind Draco. “So where is your house?” 

“Northern England,” Draco answered. “It gets feet of snow this time of year. It’s beautiful with ice on the trees and the frozen lake. I think you’ll like it.” 

“You have a  _ lake _ ?” Harry asked, as if Draco had just said he owned a country. 

“Mh,” Draco smiled. “We have a lake.” 

“Do you ever go ice-skating?” 

“What’s ice-skating?” 

Harry stopped and turned to him. “You’ve never heard of ice-skating?” 

Draco shook his head. What the bloody hell was his mate on about? 

Harry laughed. “It’s a muggle-thing, I guess. You basically wear these shoes with blades on the bottom and skate across the ice.” 

Muggles were crazy, Draco decided. Shoes with blades? Without magic to heal them? 

“Sounds… interesting,” Draco said as his father came into view, just a few feet outside of the wards. 

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, a tad awkwardly. Not that Draco could blame him - his father and his mate didn’t have a good history. He hoped this holiday could change that. He also didn’t bother to correct Harry that the terms his parents went by were  _ Lord and Lady Malfoy _ . 

Lucius inclined his head with a slight, practiced smile. “Lucius will do fine.” 

“Harry,” he offered. 

“Shall we be off?” Lucius extended his arm and Draco gripped his forearm. 

To save Harry from just standing there, Draco grabbed his wrist, feeling the warm skin against the day’s cold air. Then they were sucked into the uncomfortable tube that was aperation. 

Draco just  _ barely _ managed to catch Harry as he stumbled to the ground. “Careful.” 

Perhaps he had imagined it, but Draco swore he felt the boy flinch slightly before stepping back. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, straightening his glasses. “I should’ve warned you that aperation always throws me off - bloody hell!” 

Draco smiled as Harry’s wide eyes fell on the impressive sight of Malfoy Manor. 

Sky-taunting walls loomed over the perfectly manicured lawn. The frozen lake was pictured in the background, along with the Quidditch field and the gardens. The main entrance was outlined with a stone path and statues on the sides. The door itself was lined with carved snakes and dotted with gems. 

Draco shared a look with his father. 

“You didn’t tell me you lived in a castle, Draco!” Harry turned to them both. “This is incredible.” 

“Thank you,” Lucius said, looking pleased to impress as always. “Would you like to tour the inside?” 

“Do we have enough time over the holiday?” Harry shook his head. 

“The Malfoys are a wealthy family,” Draco told him as they approached the door. “You know that.” 

“Well muggle wealthy and wizard wealthy obviously mean different things,” Harry mumbled, still looking in awe at the manor. 

Draco didn’t like the consistent reminder of who exactly was in charge of raising his mate, but he kept it to himself. He saw his father’s eye twitch, but thankfully, he kept silent as well. 

“Draco,” his father said once they were inside, his lips tilted up at Harry’s eyes exploring their open receiving hall. “I’ll have Memri fetch you boys for lunch if you would like to show Harry to his room.” 

“Of course,” Draco said. “Harry?” 

“Sounds great,” Harry’s eyes found him again. The warm air of the manor was slowly returning his face to it’s usually pale complexion. His emerald green eyes, outlined by black lashes, stood out starkly on the winter-pale skin. Even behind the glasses, his mate had the most beautiful eyes. 

“Lopsy!” Lucius called, the elf popping in less then a second later. “Take Harry’s trunk to his room.” 

“Yes sirs, Mas’er,” Lopsy promised with big eyes, hands reaching out for the trunk. “I’s will take care of yous sirs Harry.” 

Harry handed over his trunk with a kind smile. “Thank you, Lopsy.” 

“Oh!” Lopsy got tears misting her eyes. “No, thank yous, kind, good sirs Harry. Lopsy be taking very good cares of yous sirs!” 

Once Lopsy popped away, Harry turned to his father. 

“Would it kill you to say please or thank you once in a while?” Harry asked and Draco resisted the urge to slap a hand over his mouth. He still needed to speak with his father about that little  _ political stunt  _ he pulled with his mate. He didn’t need more tension between the two. 

“They’re… house elves, Harry,” his father looked vaguely disgusted. 

“So?” Harry sighed. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful or anything. But house elves aren’t just  _ things _ that can’t feel anything. They don’t ask for anything… a little kindness goes a long way with them.” 

Draco was sure his father was going to retort sarcastically, perhaps with a roll of the eyes, but he was proven wrong. His father took a long look at his mate before nodding slowly. 

“If it makes you more comfortable,” Lucius told him. “Then I believe a little kindness to the house elves can be arranged.” 

“Really?” Harry glanced at Draco. “Thank you.” 

Lucius patted Draco’s shoulder. “Be on your way, then. Harry.” 

“I can’t believe your dad just agreed like that,” Harry said faintly once Lucius’s footfalls disappeared down the hall. 

“He wants to get along with you,” Draco said. “Do house elves truly make you so uncomfortable?” 

“They don’t,” Harry told him. “They way they’re treated do. How would you feel if a human was treated that way?” 

“But they aren’t human.” 

“They’re human enough,” Harry said, his voice adopting a hint of anger. 

Draco nodded. He supposed it might be odd to see, as someone raised away from the magical world. And, taking a step back, Draco could see it from his point of view. It had been a bit… sad, how Lopsy reacted to Harry’s small gesture of kindness. 

“Well, I believe you’ve already changed us for the better,” Draco offered him a smile. “Come on. I promise I won’t yell at any house elves on the way.” 

“Prat.” 

Draco let him through the manor, answering Harry’s questions as they came, about what certain art or relics were and what the rooms were for. Draco had laughed when Harry asked how he could remember it all. 

“This is my room,” Draco stopped at the entrance. It was more of a wing then a room, as it had a sitting area, a balcony, and a study. It also, of course, had a smaller, closed off room with a door for the actual bedroom. 

“This is a bloody flat,” Harry raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice.” 

“Thank you,” Draco led him down the hall and across it. “Here’s where you’re staying. Unless, you’d like a different one.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and opened the door. A very strange look entered his mate’s eyes.

He looked over the bed, covered with a dark red comforter and white sheets. The walls, which were a similar red with dark brown trim. To the carpet that was an off-gray. To the black study desk beside the brown bookshelves. The three windows in the room overlooked the Quidditch field and were all framed with heavy yellow curtains. Draco had requested the colours changed. Harry was a Gryffindor after all and this was the most Gryffindor decor he could stand. They were all warm colours and he believed Harry’s room was officially the coziest in the manor. There was a rather large walk-in closet and an attached bathroom, the latter of which was fully stocked. And Draco got the feeling that by the end of the holiday, the closet would be well stocked also. 

If Draco didn’t know better… he would say that his mate looked sad. 

“What do you think?” 

“It’s wonderful, Draco,” Harry said quietly before clearing his throat. “Who chose the colours?” 

“Who do you think?” 

“Did you have a stroke?” 

“Only a minor one,” Draco narrowed his eyes playfully. 

Hopefully Harry would like everything about his time here and hopefully, he would want to stay for the summer. Though, even if he didn’t, Draco still had an ace up each sleeve.

_________________

  
  


Three days. Harry had been at Malfoy Manor for three days and he hadn’t been killed, cursed, or converted to the Dark side. Maybe he was finally up on his luck. He spent most of his time with Draco, though he did see Lucius and Narcissa for meals. That wasn’t  _ nearly _ as awkward as he thought it would be. Draco’s parents were actually pretty interesting and they both knew how to keep a conversation going. 

Harry had found out on the second day that Snape was apparently there too. He had joined them for dinner, at the request of Narcissa, and Harry almost choked when he had found out the reason. Snape was Draco’s Godfather. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but… it was just hard to imagine Snape being parental to anyone. 

Snape had mostly ignored him which Harry suspected was because of Draco. Luckily, with this castle-sized house, they didn’t run into each other. He was still in awe over it. He could probably fit the Dursley’s entire house into their living room.

And then… the real kicker had been when Lucius thanked the kitchen elf, Memri, in front of everybody. The elf had nearly fallen over and Draco had slipped him a smile. This effort was unimaginably appreciated. Even if it was all just because he was Draco’s mate, Harry was both surprised and thankful. 

And this room! It was incredible. He never really  _ had _ a room of his own before, not one he could remember. His cupboard was the closest he got to that. He considered his cousin’s second bedroom much less of a safe room than his cupboard. Everything about it was amazing. Especially the bathroom - that  _ shower _ , Merlin. It was like a vacation, really, a bloody fantastic vacation. 

But, of course, he was Harry Potter, so something had to go wrong. Luck was never on his side for very long. 

On that third night, Harry had his first nightmare since he got there. It wasn’t a pretty one. 

_ Dirt, laughter.  _

_ “Take his glasses off.”  _

_ Salt, grass.  _

_ “He’s a looker without ‘em, innit he?”  _

_ “Stop!”  _

_ “What the fuck did you just say to me, freak?”  _

_ Cold hands, hot breath. Cold hands. Cold hands.  _

_ Pain.  _

_ “Be fucking still!”  _

_ “You’re quite the fidgeter ain’t ya?”  _

_ “Don’t worry ‘bout that, eh? Makes it better.”  _

_Agony_ _.  _

_ “Freak?” _

_ Confusion?  _

_ “Harry?” _

_ Worry? _

_ “Harry!”  _

_ Safe.  _

Harry woke up with a scream, slapping his hand to his mouth and refusing to open his eyes, afraid of what he would see. Sobs racked his shoulders. He felt like he had been buried under dirt for weeks, the muck getting into every pour of his skin. His lungs were trying to pull air in, but it felt like there was no oxygen left in the world. 

“Harry?” 

His eyes snapped open and he jumped back. A blurry Draco, with wide silver eyes, was sitting on the bed, a hand outstretched but not touching him. 

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ . 

“How,” Harry fought for his breath. “How’d you…” 

“I felt you were… upset,” Draco said, lowering his hand. 

“You put wards on me?” Harry glared, or tried to, his eyes were burning. What right did Draco have to ward him? 

“Through our bond,” Draco leaned over to grab his glasses from the bed table and handed them to him. As he took them, Harry noticed Draco was careful not to touch his hand. For that, he couldn’t have been more grateful. 

“Well, I’m fine. Sorry to bother.” Harry secured his glasses and wiped a hand across his face. 

“You’re not a bother,” Draco insisted. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

“No.” Harry paused. If there was anything he knew, a wandering mind was a dangerous one. “S’bout Voldemort.” 

“Alright,” Draco accepted, just like everyone always did. What other problems did Harry Potter have? “But know that you can, anytime.” 

“Sure,” Harry said, not that he’d ever accept the offer. Panic was still worming through his chest, tightening and loosening but never letting go. Merlin, this was one fucking wound that would just  _ never _ heal over or scar or get better. Maybe he could be lucky enough to die in the war and never have to think again, period. 

“Do you have nightmares often?”

“Kind of,” Harry shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.” Although, at the current moment, his nightmares were his biggest deal. 

“I could get you some Dreamless sleep potions, if you’d like?” Draco offered. “It isn’t recommended to take them more than three times a week, but perhaps it would help.” 

“That actually sounds great,” Harry said, feeling a few more tears slid down his face. He didn’t even  _ know _ why he was still crying. In front of Draco, no less. Although, before Harry would have been mortified to show this kind of weakness to Draco. Now, he didn’t feel that bad. Maybe he was just losing his pride, or maybe it was Draco’s judgment-free face, but it unsettled him either way. 

“Consider it done,” Draco hesitated a moment. “How would you feel about some hot chocolate on the balcony?” 

“How romantic,” Harry said before he could stop himself. “I… eh, meant…” 

Draco just laughed. “Just wait until I treat you to cheese and wine at sunset.” 

“I do enjoy cheese,” Harry smiled back. It wasn’t quite a genuine smile but it wasn’t forced either - that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

The hot chocolate hadn’t hurt either. It was miles better than what Hogwarts served. It had tasted like pure melted chocolate and milk, which Draco had confirmed it was, with sugar and spice of course. He didn’t know what it was with wizards and chocolate, but they had certainly figured something out. 

Draco hadn’t breathed another word about his nightmare, just sat with him and watched the sun rise over the grounds of the manor while they both enjoyed their chocolate. 

Harry couldn’t have wished for more. 

______________________________________ 

  
  


Christmas day was approaching and Harry was stumped. He had to do something for the Malfoys, but… it wasn’t like he could buy them anything they didn’t already have. Or couldn’t have gotten at a moment’s notice. 

They had been so kind to him… kinder than anyone, expect the Weasleys maybe, had ever been. Draco always seemed to be up with him and they had taken to having breakfast together rather than with the family. They usually practiced Quidditch for a few hours until the cold beckoned them inside. 

Draco managed to find a new part of the manor to show him every day. Draco advised him against going into the third and fifth wing, as that’s where his parents and Snape stayed. Harry tried his best not to crack a Beauty and The Beast joke. Oddly enough, that had been Harry’s favorite childhood movie. The Dursleys had stopped playing it once Du-… his cousin was old enough that he considered it ‘a girl movie’. Until then Harry only heard it from his cupboard and caught glimpses of it when he was cleaning. But the similarities were certainly there… 

Then Harry had a thought. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Harry slipped out of bed before the run rose and walked the path to the kitchens. 

“Hi, Memri,” Harry greeted the elf as she was laying out the day’s ingredients. 

“Oh, sweet and kind sirs Harry Potter!” Memri smiled widely and hopped down from her stool. “What you be needings, good sirs Harry Potter?” 

“Nothing,” Harry bent down to talk quieter to her. “I want to cook breakfast for everyone today, if that’s alright with you.” 

“Oh! Sirs,” Memri twisted her hands. “Is - is Memri’s cooking not good for good sirs Harry Potter?” 

“No!” Harry assured quickly, not wanting a repeat of Dobby’s self-punishment. “No, nothing like that. Your food is amazing, Memri. I just wanted to cook for them myself as a… present. But I would love some help?” 

Pleased to have a job, Memri nodded, eyes going bright again. “Memri would love to be helping the kind sirs Harry Potter! What you be needing Memri to do?” 

For the next few hours, Harry and Memri cooked a huge breakfast. Memri was the best - and only - sue-chef he ever had. Sometimes, when there was a big dinner party, Aunt Petunia would cook with Harry, but that was always in silence and Harry was always anticipating a smack over the head. 

This was much different. Harry was making Memri laugh and towards the end, he even got her to call him by just his first name. With the help of Memri, Harry made all the Malfoys favorites. Chocolate biscuits for Draco, but Harry already knew that. Peach crepes for Narcissa and French Apple Toast for Lucius. 

“Memri?” Harry asked. “Do… you know Snape’s favorite?” 

“Mas’er Snapes?” Memri thought for a moment before clicking her fingers. “Mas’er Snapes be asking Memri for sweet potato cakes on very good days, Harry!” 

“We can do that,” Harry nodded. As much as Harry didn’t like it, Snape was Draco’s Godfather and he’d make an effort for him. Draco had done the same for him, multiple times. He was sure to add lightly toasted marshmallows on the sweet potatoes cakes, just as an extra touch. 

Once everything was laid out, which to Memri displeasure, he did himself instead of using her magic, he asked her to get everybody. Harry was just fixing up the plates once Draco came down. He’s hair wasn’t made up yet, though he had been doing it less since Harry had off-handly mentioned he liked it without the gel. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” 

“Breakfast,” Harry spread out his arms and smiled. “I didn’t know what to get you all, so I made breakfast.” 

“Harry, you made all this?” Draco’s eyes swept over the tables and the loads of food covering it. Usually when Memri made them food, it was already put out on plates and there were no dishes on the table. If they wanted anymore, they just asked her. Now, however, all the plates were empty and the dishes were steaming on the table with serving spoons stuck in them. 

“Memri helped,” Harry acknowledged. “But, mostly, yes.” 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Draco walked over and pulled out a chair, his eyes drifting towards the sweets. “This looks amazing.” 

It was then that Draco’s parents arrived with Snape a few paces behind them. 

“Harry cooked us breakfast,” Draco said proudly at his family’s perplexed faces. 

“Potter cooked this?” Snape looked slightly ill. “Merlin help us.” 

“Yep,” Harry offered a smile. “You should try the sweet potato cakes, Professor.” 

To Harry’s delight, Snape looked a bit interested and they all took their seats. Narcissa and Lucius were a bit awkward with the serving spoons but it was relieved when Narcissa laughed at Lucius inability to cut the ham properly. At least they were having fun. Without coaxing, they all grabbed their personal favorite first, making Harry smile. He loved seeing Narcissa’s eyes brighten at the peach crepes - because those were bloody hard to make. 

“Harry,” Draco said to his right, motioning to the biscuits. “This is delicious.” 

“Thanks,” Harry just  _ knew _ Draco would love the chocolate biscuits and he had made them with him in mind. Maybe the Dursleys had given him one marketable skill. You learned to cook fast if you’d only eat when it was perfect. 

“Harry, dear,” Narcissa said. “Where did you learn how to cook like this? Do they teach it in… your previous school?”

It was almost funny, how they all avoided the word muggle like it was an unforgivable. He almost wanted to shout it and see if they ducked for cover. 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I just cook a lot at... home, so I’ve picked up a good bit over the years.” 

“Potter,” Snape addressed. “This… is not terrible.” 

Wow, that was probably the highest praise he had ever received from Snape. “I’m glad you like it, sir.” 

“It’s curious, then,” Snape narrowed his eyes. “Why you perform so abysmally in my class, when you actually have the ability to cook.” 

Harry saw Draco tense from the corner of his eye and to save the meal, Harry went for honesty instead of sarcasm. 

“Cooking isn’t very precise,” Harry said. “With cooking you just add what you think will work and just keep on until it tastes good.” 

Snape eyed him, but nodded once. “Do you tend to employ the same technique when brewing?”

“Sometimes?” Harry said, feeling like there was a correct answer, but not quite knowing what it was. “I try to go by the book, but it just doesn’t seem right all the time.” 

“Perhaps we could practice a bit,” Draco suggested, looking between them. “Potions  _ is _ my best subject, after all.” 

“I believe that’s a splendid idea, Draco,” his father said. “And Harry, you have my express permission to make use of the kitchens whenever you please. This is wonderful.” 

“Thanks,” Harry had managed to impress all three Malfoy and  _ maybe _ even Snape. He counted this as a win. “Cooking was one of the only chores I actually enjoyed.” 

“I suppose it wasn’t a very long list,” Snape grumbled and Harry’s hand froze. Shit. 

“N-no, sir,” Harry tried to save. “Just normal, every-week kind of straightening and… stuff.” 

Great save, Harry. 

Snape seemed to accept it easily enough… but Draco had a strange look in his eyes that Harry wanted to rip out and stomp on. Double shit. He was getting way too comfortable here. 

He would have to be more careful in the future. 

__________________________________ 

  
  


Draco had been doing some thinking and some re-evaluating. Harry James Potter was everything he didn’t expect. His mate was kind, considerate, a bit shy at times, and had a wicked sense of humor. He certainly wasn’t arrogant. 

Harry had been adamant of treating the house elves better and honestly… Draco had come around. The air around the manor was so much lighter - the elves happier. Draco felt shame every time he heard himself say thank you to them and it felt strange. 

Harry saw kindness in everything. Draco sighed, sitting alone in his room that night. He was so much different than what Draco had envisioned. He was so much different then what his Godfather told him he was. 

Perhaps he was different than what everyone had envisioned. 

________________________ 

  
  


“Harry?” Draco called, tapping his sleepy mate lightly. 

The boy startled awake. “Draco?” He asked sleepily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. They looked so much bigger without his glasses. “What time’s it?” 

“It’s Christmas morning…,” Draco caught himself before he used the term ‘love’. “Harry. I want you to see something. Come on, get dressed.” 

“M’kay, five more minutes.” 

“Harry…” 

“Fine,” he grumbled, throwing off the covers and squinting towards the window. “It’s not even light out!” 

“That’s the point, now get on with it, Potter!” 

“Watch it, Malfoy.” 

“Imbecile.” 

“Ferret.” 

“You know how much I hate that nickname, don’t you?” 

“It’s not a nickname,” Harry half smiled, finally pulling himself out of bed. “It’s an  _ insult _ .” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What do you have against ferrets?” Harry looked at him for a second before walking into the closet to change. Right before he shut the door, he paused. “Ferrets are cute.” 

Draco was glad the door was now shut between them, hiding Draco’s smile at being called cute by his mate. Even if it was just a joke, it made his Veela purr with contentment. 

Once Harry was dressed for the day, Draco held the door for him and led his mate out of the manor and into the gardens. There was fresh snow on the ground and icicles hanging from every tree. The sun was just barely poking out from behind the mountains, promising a beautiful day to come. Once they got to a hanging bench in the garden’s center, Draco cleaned the snow away with a spell and sat down, Harry following. 

“I wanted to give you my gift,” Draco began. “Before everyone else woke up, that is.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything Draco,” Harry said, his cheeks pink either from the cold or from the attention. 

“I know that. I wanted to,” Draco pulled two small boxes from the inner pocket of his robes, a sleek black one and a dark green one. “Open the green one first.” 

Harry smiled and started carefully unwrapping the gift. He pulled at the edges, not tearing the paper as Draco had always done. The boy unwrapped the thing as if he had never received a gift before. It was sweet. 

“Draco?” With gentle fingers, Harry removed the bracelet from the box and held it to the light. A silver dragon was wrapped around a steel black snake with emeralds for eyes. The two almost looked like they were dancing, but there was a sort of fire there as well - not anger exactly, but passion. The dragon’s eyes were closed, but it’s wings were encircling the snake, not restraining, but protecting, shielding, and fighting alongside. It was thin enough to be elegantly worn, but thick enough to be masculne. 

“I know you aren’t a snake,” Draco said. “But you are a parselmouth and I know that’s important to you.” 

Harry ran his fingers across the bracelet. “The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.” 

“It did?” 

Harry nodded, eyes still on the dragon and snake’s eternal dance. “The only thing I knew about Slytherin was that Hagrid told me all the dark wizards got sorted there… and that you were there.” 

Draco stared at him. 

“Looking back, I wish I had given it a little more thought,” Harry continued. “But, you had insulted Ron before you asked me to be your friend. And Ron… honestly Draco? He was the first friend I had ever had.” 

“He was?” Draco asked. “What about your muggle school?” 

“People didn’t really like me there,” Harry lifted a shoulder, finally raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. 

“So if I hadn’t insulted Weasley…” 

“I’m sure I would’ve taken your offer,” Harry told him, his thumb gliding over the silver dragon. “And I would probably be in Slytherin.” 

“I’ve never wanted a time turner more,” Draco said. How much would be different - better - if he had kept his damn mouth shut and was kind for once in his life? 

“The snake is perfect,” Harry unclasped the bracelet and slipped it on his wrist. It settled perfectly against his pale skin. Then he, rather unexpectedly, leaned over to hug Draco. “Thank you.”

Draco wrapped his arms around his mate, enjoying the moment and soaking up his mate’s warmth. Once he pulled back, smiles had greeted both their faces and the sunlight danced in their eyes. 

“It’s also a portkey,” Draco told him once the hug ended. “The word can be set whenever you please. Just press your fingers against the dragon’s eyes and say a word. Be sure it isn’t one you’ll say without setting off the portkey.” 

Harry’s hand hovered over the dragon. “Where does it bring me?” 

“Your room in manor,” Draco answered. “I was going to make it for Hogwarts, but… I figured if you really needed to use it, Hogwarts might not be the best place. I can change the setting, if you ever want me to.” 

Harry pressed his fingers on the dragon’s closed eyes.  _ “Seeethssssai.”  _

Draco shivered. Hearing Harry speak in parseltongue was always a bit of a shock - none human words coming from the mouth of a human. “What did you say?” 

Harry smirked. “Ferret.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and laughed. “You find yourself terribly amusing, don’t you?” 

“It’s a gift,” Harry put the lid back on the box and set it down. 

“Open the other one,” Draco urged, pushing the black box into his hand. This one was the big present - and the one he was most worried about. 

“Is it more jewelry?” Harry asked, opening the gift with the same careful hands as before. This time, he pulled out a golden skeleton key. Harry looked at him quizzically. “What’s it to?” 

“It’s more symbolic,” Draco allowed all traces of a controlled expression to melt away, leaving his face open and hoping Harry wouldn’t reject this. “I want to include your magical signature in the Malfoy wards.” 

Harry still looked lost. 

“That is to say… I’d like you to spend the summer here. With me.” Draco said, quickly following with. “Just like we have been over this holiday. Just as friends. We can train together here and you’ll have all the knowledge of the library at your disposal. I have been talking with my parents and they’ve agreed it’s doable for your Godfather to visit here as well.” 

“Sirius?” Harry’s green eyes widened. “He could come here? It would be safe?” 

“He  _ is _ related to my mother, after all,” Draco gave a nervous smile. “The Malfoy wards are strong enough to hide his presence, so yes, he would be safe. I’m having my father work on keying him into the wards over this holiday, and we’re still working out a means of travel… but it’s certainly doable.” 

“Draco…” 

Here came the rejection. As a last ditch effort. “We could always… try to arrange for your relatives to visit as well.” 

“No!” Harry raised his voice. “No, I mean… it, they don’t like magic.” 

“I see.” 

“Draco, I want to,” Harry said. “You don’t  _ understand  _ how much I want to.” 

Warmth bloomed in his chest. “Then accept.” 

“Dumbledore would never allow it,” Harry said, putting a hand on his arm. “He would never allow the blood wards around the Dursley’s to fall.”

“If he knew you would be staying here,” Draco reasoned. “I’m sure he would be satisfied with our wards.” 

His mate sighed and Draco didn’t like the look that shadowed over his face. 

_________________________________________ 

  
  


Wasn’t this everything Harry had wanted? An offer to be whisked away from the Dursleys, to see Sirius, to keep having fun with Draco. But he couldn’t do that to his family. He couldn’t bring Dumbledore down against them. He knew if he accepted, Dumbledore would stop it, and Draco would fight with him. 

But how could he just outright lie to Draco after everything he had done? Harry was just so  _ tired _ of running and hiding. He just wanted the same feeling he had that night when Draco had woken him from his nightmare - his… mate’s kind eyes and hot chocolate. 

He wanted Draco to find a way for him to accept without inciting Dumbledore. He needed Draco to understand  _ why _ he was refusing. Being here, with Draco, this last week had been one of the best weeks of his life.

Perhaps if he just skimmed the surface of the truth, Draco would understand. 

“I don’t think he would be,” Harry said quietly, but still loud enough for them both to hear. “He wouldn’t even let me stay at Hogwarts over the summers.”

Draco’s brow pinched. “Why would you want to stay at Hogwarts?” 

“My relatives aren’t the biggest fans of magic,” Harry sighed. He decided to clue Draco in on how much Ron and Hermione knew. That was safe - it had been for five years. “Which means they aren’t my biggest fans.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“They hate me, Draco,” Harry laid out plainly. “And I’ve got to put up with it until I’m seventeen to keep the blood wards. I wish I could stay with you, but I just… can’t.” 

Hopefully Draco would understand that. Harry, however, wasn’t ever that lucky. 

“They’ve told you they… hate you?” 

“At any chance they have,” Harry joked, trying to lighten the air and failing miserably. “It’s not the best, but it’s nothing compared to Voldemort.” 

Which had been true, until last summer. He’d take Voldemort’s wand over Du… over his cousin any day of the week.

Draco was quiet and Harry got the odd feeling he was sitting next to a ticking bomb. He looked confused and Harry was starting to get nervous. Draco… he wasn’t going to go Veela-mental about this or anything, was he? He should have read the rest of that damn book. 

“And Dumbledore knows about this?’ 

“Yeah, I mean, he knows I don’t like it there,” Harry tapped his fingers against his leg. “But it’s where I’m the safest.” 

_ Not anymore _ , he thought bitterly. 

Oh, the irony of him defending the Dursleys while plotting in his own head on how to never return. But he wouldn’t implicate Draco in his little escape plan - the Malfoys were already on shaky footing with the world. If he stripped away their ties to Dumbledore too… Harry wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

“They,” Draco silver eyes burned. “Those  _ muggles _ … abused you?” 

“No!” He was quick to deny and lay Draco’s fears to rest. “Merlin, no, Draco. They just got stuck with a kid they didn’t want.”

“And,” Draco swallowed hard. “They  _ told you this _ ?” 

“Well,” Harry eyed him. “Yeah?”

“That’s - Harry,” Draco grabbed his sleeve, commanding his full attention. “At the bare -  _ bare _ \- minimum that’s emotional abuse.”

Harry snorted. He expected that word from a touchy-feely grade school counselor, not Draco Malfoy. He shook his hand off. 

“Draco, it’s not ‘emotional abuse’,” Harry shook his head. “Pretty sure that’s not even a real thing.” 

“Not a real…,” Draco looked like Harry just told him the sky was red and the oceans were purple. “Please tell me this is some joke that for some  _ ridiculous _ reason you find amusing.” 

“It’s not a joke, Draco,” Harry was on operation damage control. He  _ really _ had to get that book back from Hermione. He had suspected Draco would be  _ disappointed _ at his refusal but not… whatever this was. That familiar, cagey panic that came with a lot of questions started up a foothold in his stomach. “But it’s not a big deal. They mostly leave me alone now anyway.” 

“Let’s add neglect then.” 

“Stop.” 

“ _ Harry _ ,” said the distressed Veela. “You will  _ never _ return to that… place. Of that, be aware.” 

“Dumbledore won’t let you keep me here,” Harry pointed out, trying to get him to understand. “I’ve got to go back. It’s only two more summers.” 

“No,” Draco growled, actually growled, his voice slightly deeper than usual. “My  _ mate _ will be staying  _ here _ with me where he is  _ safe _ .” 

“I’m safer there than anywhere else,” Harry defended, knowing it was likely the only way to get through to him. It had worked with everyone else, after all. 

“They  _ hurt  _ you!” 

“They  _ don’t _ hurt me, you dramatic Slytherin,” Harry lied and shook his head in exasperation. He hoped Draco bought it. Because, yes, the Dursleys were alright with smacking him around a bit, but it wasn’t like he was having daily sessions with a belt or broken bones. He doubted this wound up Veela would see it that way. “They just don’t like me, and honestly? The feeling is mutual. We avoid each other. I can deal with a few more months of avoiding my relatives, Draco.” 

“A child shouldn’t have to-” 

“I’m not a child.” 

“I don’t care. You aren’t going back to somewhere you aren’t wanted when you are  _ very _ much wanted here!” 

“Dumbledore-” 

“Let him try to stop me,” Draco’s chest was rising a bit higher than normal. 

“Draco,” Harry reached out and splayed his fingers over the Slytherin’s shoulders. “Draco.” 

With still no response, just the burning silver staring across the snow-laden morning, Harry scooted closer, until their thighs were touching. Despite the warm contact on the cold night, none of Harry’s alarm bells were ringing. He didn’t feel scared, even with the other boy’s anger hanging in the air, he felt safe. He didn’t know why exactly he intationed the contact, but he just knew it would calm Draco down. 

Harry moved his hand to wrap fully around Draco and he leaned his head on his shoulder. His other hand rested just below Draco’s heart, feeling the strong  _ thump thump thump _ . Slowly, the tension left Draco’s shoulders and he relaxed his posture. Draco’s arm wrapped around him and his breathing settled. Harry… never remembered being close enough to someone to hear their heartbeat. It was kind of soothing. 

“Let me discuss this with our family and Dumbledore,” Draco said quietly, his voice tense and pleading. As if it was someone he desperately wanted Harry’s permission for, but something he would ultimately do anyway. 

Our family. 

“Not today,” Harry whispered back. The words of ‘not ever’ were not spoken by Harry, but they were there. He hoped he hadn’t just made a big mistake. 

Draco said nothing, but continued to hold him until the morning light awoke the day.

____________________________________ 

As far as mornings went, Draco wasn’t having the best of them. Now he had to figure out what the hell to do with his stubborn mate. The Veela pacing back and forth inside his head wouldn’t even consider the thought of allowing his mate back with those muggles. 

He hoped that the abuse - and it was abuse - was as minor as Harry described. But he didn’t get his hopes up. He knew from his Godfather that abuse was like rats on a ship - if you see one, there’s a hundred more you don’t see. 

There was just one thing - one piece of the puzzle he didn’t understand. He distinctly remembered his Godfather informing him how much those muggles spoiled his mate. It was a leading reason why he was so hesitant about asking Harry to stay with him. 

To this, he had three ideas, all of which got progressively worse. 

  1. Severus didn’t know anything about Harry’s home-life and was lying to placate him. 
  2. Severus had bad information and was just uninformed. 
  3. Severus knew his relatives disliked him and kept it from Draco. 



He truly hoped it wasn’t the last one. Severus wouldn’t do that, would he? The man had dedicated his entire teaching career to helping children in that very situation. He wouldn’t gloss over Harry because of his last name, would he? 

Draco’s stomach twisted and he hoped he knew his Godfather better than that. 

_________________________________________


	4. All Roads Lead to Home

**Chapter Four - All Roads Lead to Home**

Apparently, Narcissa was under the impression that Harry couldn’t dress himself. Harry was sitting on the floor, trying to sort through the mountains of clothing that Narcissa had given him to open. There were shirts, under shirts, jackets, blazers, pants, shorts, robes, coats, scarves, hats, ties, _bow ties_ … and a hell of a lot of other stuff that Harry had no idea what to call. 

When he and Draco had come down to the ‘family room,’ as Draco called it, he was surprised to see the Malfoys and Snape were already there. Apparently Draco’s family did presents before breakfast, but he didn’t mind. There was a massive tree just left of the fireplace with mounds of presents nestled beneath the branches. He was even more surprised to see that a good number of gifts were for _him_. 

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Harry smiled brightly at her. “I have no idea where I’m going to put all of this.” 

“You’re very welcome, Harry,” Narcissa smiled back. “And I’ll have Lopsy set this all up in your closet. You can take what you wish back to school. How do you like the colours?” 

“They’re brilliant,” Harry said. “Though my housemates probably won’t like all the black and green.” 

“They’ll believe we’ve turned you,” Snape spoke up from his chess game with Lucius. A game that a very disgruntled Lucius was badly losing. He took that - Snape’s little comments here and there - as a sign of progress. Draco certainly seemed to appreciate it. 

“We will soon enough,” Draco said from his right. “The charcoal will look stunning on you.” 

“The black one?” 

“Merlin, Potter,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You’ve got about six shades of black infront of you.”

“Well not everyone has your stuck up eyes, Malfoy.” 

“Scarhead.” 

“Ferret.” 

Draco laughed and pulled the black - sorry, _charcoal_ \- jacket from the stack and held it up to his chest. “See? Stunning.” 

Without the malice, bantering with Draco was fun. Although the first few times they had done it in front of his parents, they both looked terribly nervous until Draco smiled. He thought Snape was going to explode when he called Draco a ferret in front of him, until Draco had pushed him lightly and threw out his own insult. Then, if Harry didn’t know any better, he would say that Snape’s eyes had softened. 

“Sure,” Harry smiled. 

To be completely honest… This was the best Christmas he had ever experienced. And it was probably going to be the best one he would ever experience with the way things were going. So he enjoyed the moment. 

“The bracelet is just lovely on you, Harry,” Narcissa spoke up again. “Doesn’t my son have the best taste?” 

Harry chuckled, his fingers brushing over the dragon. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a great gift.” 

“A portkey, isn’t it?” Lucius muttered while Snape’s rook destroyed another one of his pawns. “Dammit.” 

“ _Lucius_.” 

“Sorry, dear.” 

“It is a portkey,” Harry confirmed. “We’ve set it up and everything.” 

“ _You_ set it up,” Draco said, clearly still unhappy about the portkey’s trigger word. 

“Well I’m not the biggest fan of portkey travel, I guess,” Harry said. “Had to make it fun somehow.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” Draco assured. “The first time I apperated I thought I was going to die.” 

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “I had this eleven year old hanging onto me like a toddler.” 

“Mother!” 

“No, no,” Harry held up his hands. It was amazing how much of a… normal family the Malfoys - and Snape - seemed to be. “I was the same way. I was like, seven, I think. It sucked.” 

Instead of the laughter Draco got, Harry was met with silent stares. Damn. Was it his language? ‘Sucked’ wasn’t exactly a swear word, but it wasn’t polite either. Merlin, he had ruined it, hadn’t he? He was going to be berated by… 

“You are either boasting or joking, Potter,” Snape spoke over the silence. 

“I’m not!” Harry narrowed his eyes. “It was an accident. I was just running away from some other kids and I was thinking about how - well, the school roof would be a good hiding place and then I was… just there.” 

“You apperated at seven?” Draco said, staring at him like he caught him doing sometimes - with wide eyes and tipped up lips. “That’s _impressive_ , Harry.” 

“More like unheard of,” Lucius said. “Were you scared of these other kids?” 

There was the caginess again.

“Not really, I mean, I was a kid. We were playing t - tag,” Harry shrugged. They were playing _Harry Hunting_ and he was playing _Survive_. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“Can you apparate now?” Lucius asked, but Narcissa stopped him. 

“My love, could we save the integration for later?” She asked of him. “It’s very impressive, yes, but now is family time.” 

“Of course. My apologies, Harry,” Lucius said, but he seemed to have something new shining in his eyes. 

Maybe he was thinking _maybe this dumb kid does have a chance against the Dark Lord._ He wouldn’t be the first. 

“It’s fine,” Harry said, although he was careful to store the information away for later. Even though he usually despised people’s inflated image of him, having the respect of Draco’s dad was something he’d take any day of the week. 

Draco reached over and brushed the back of his fingers across Harry’s arm. For some odd fucking reason, Harry appreciated the gesture, the contact. 

He was the most nervous about Snape’s eyes. He was looking Harry over like a potion he didn’t quite know the formula to and it made him bloody well _nervous_. If this was the holidays - there was no way Harry could spend a summer with these people. It really was his nightmare scenario. Harry’s heart curled inwards a bit. 

_If you think for a moment these people would still want you around their son after knowing what you REALLY ARE, you’re a bigger idiot than you thought._

It wasn’t a lie. Harry looked over at Draco and thought about how much he didn’t want to lose this - whatever this was. 

“Boys,” Lucius called their attention. “Open the two blue ones together, if you’d please.” 

It was amazing how relaxed Lucius was in this house with his family. 

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry protested, not for the first time. This holiday was a bit overwhelming for him. The only Christmases he had were the beloved ones at Hogwarts and the ones he listened to through the cracks in his cupboard. 

Draco got up to get the presents just as his mother was saying, “nonsense, Harry. As I’m sure you’ve heard, you’re family now.” 

Well, being family with the Dursleys never translated to a happy Christmas, but Harry refrained from pointing that out. 

“Here,” Draco set the gift in his lap and Harry knew what it was before he opened it. 

Still, Harry carefully unwrapped the long blue gift, revealing the smooth wooden handle of a broomstick underneath. It was a masterfully crafted piece and probably cost a fortune. The wicker in the back was sleek, not a strand out of place. The handle allowed for barely any slipping. Just by looking at it, he knew this thing was _fast_. He didn’t recognize the model. 

“This is great, father,” Draco smiled at him, his own broom, the exact same, in his hands. Harry found it funny how Draco _destroyed_ the wrapping paper, now in a crumbled pile by his feet. “This is the Windhawk, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Lucius looked over from his losing battlefield and smiled. “I believe it comes out next year, so you won’t be able to use it for matches, but it will be excellent practice for our resident seekers.” 

Harry felt his face flush. It was just… so foreign. _Draco_ was their son, not Harry. And yet, they didn’t give him the upper hand, they didn’t even seem to _favor_ him. Which, Harry was sure, was mostly to keep Draco happy, but still… he couldn’t say it didn’t feel nice. 

“Thank you, Lucius,” Harry said sincerely, his fingers brushing over the broom. 

“I’m glad you like it,” the man nodded, going back to his game. “When did I lose my other rook!” 

“Three turns ago.” 

“Nonsense.” 

Draco and Harry made their way through the smaller gifts. Harry had a few more gifts from Draco - some books, a couple wizarding games, a good number of sweets. Draco had a good number from his Slytherin friends and extended family, all of which he put in the same pile. Harry was happy to drink the hot chocolate Memri brought and watch Draco open his mountain of stuff. If Draco got this much every year - where the hell did he put it all? 

“Here,” Draco handed him a present wrapped in black paper and Harry nearly had a stroke. 

_To: Mr. Potter_

_From: SS_

Harry, with the present in hand, looked over at Snape, who seemed mildly curious as always, but never fully invested. He had beaten Lucius a while ago, and was now sitting on an armchair with a cup of tea. What the hell did _Snape_ get him? Merlin, it reminded of the Dursley’s ‘presents’ that were usually either a scrubbing brush or a smack. He knew Snape probably wouldn’t do something similar in front of Draco, but the doubt was still firmly planted in his mind. 

Just as with the others, Harry carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a book underneath. 

_From the Kitchen to the Brewery - Translating Cooking Intuition into Potion Technics_

Harry blinked and felt a smile creep onto his face. He opened the book and looked at the recipes, tips, and pictures. “Thank you, Professor.” 

The man nodded. “I’ve had a few muggle-raised students benefit from this text.” 

“It’s great, I…,” Harry bit his lip. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Perhaps it will improve your marks.” 

“I’m sure it will,” Harry agreed easily. 

“We’ll practice it later,” Draco promised, shooting his Godfather a thankful look. Maybe he was worried about what the gift contained too. 

And Harry did appreciate it, truly he did. He was careful to understand that the only reason they were being so kind to him was for the fact that he was Draco’s mate. Just as the Weasleys were kind because he was Ron’s friend. It put things in a rather depressing context, but it was important to remember. 

Still, it didn’t hurt to imagine himself as part of this family. Just for a moment. 

___________________________

Later that night, Draco found his Godfather just where he knew he’d be, in his potions lab, experimenting with the new journal his father had gifted him. The lab always smelled different, depending on the potion he was brewing, but there was that underlying familiar scent that he’d known since he was a toddler. 

“How is it coming along?” 

“I believe I’ll be able to double a Warming Potion’s shelf life,” his Godfather responded, not looking up from the cauldron. “Perhaps even it’s effects.” 

Excellent - just what the world was waiting for. Draco felt a weight over his shoulders, wishing he could share it with his Godfather, but not willing to break Harry’s trust. 

“Could I have some Dreamless Sleep?” 

Severus looked up then and regarded him with concern. “Nightmares, Draco?” 

“It’s not for me,” he shook his head. “Harry’s been having them.” 

“I see,” Severus' eyes caught his own and Draco strengthened the shields around his mind. Severus raised an eyebrow and gestured to a chair beside him. “Sit down.” 

Draco obeyed, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to get the man to drop it. Draco rarely used the shields his Godfather taught him against the man. He never _read_ Draco’s mind, but he would use the little technique to gage his current emotions. If Severus felt for himself what Draco was feeling… it would all go south very fast. 

The murderous rage, the protectiveness, the crushing sadness… Draco’s mind wasn’t a happy place at the moment. His Veela was doing the equivalent of turning over tables and throwing chairs in his head. Even though it was easy to push away while he was watching Harry have fun on Christmas, now that the festivities and food were gone, he had nothing else to think about. 

Those muggles. 

“Talk to me,” Severus said, his back to his potion. 

Draco sighed. “You know Harry has a lot to have nightmares about. I offered him some dreamless sleep.” 

“What strength does it need to be?” 

“Simmered for seven minutes.” 

“Seven?” That was the strongest type. The only type that would stop the waking up screaming and crying nightmares that he now knew Harry had. And now Severus knew he had. 

Had it even been about Voldemort? 

“It’s bad,” Draco said quietly. “I… felt it through our bond. I helped him through it.” 

Severus nodded. “That must have been difficult for you.” 

Oh, his Godfather, always the mind healer. But… Draco wanted so _badly_ to ask the questions biting at his mind. But he didn’t want to betray Harry, he couldn’t. His Veela was urging him to… 

_Tell him. He can help our mate. Make sure our mate is safe._

“Very difficult,” Draco agreed. Then… there was a different emotion itching underneath his skin. He wasn’t quite sure what to call it. Severus was concerned that _Harry’s_ nightmare had been difficult on _Draco_. Did he give even a moment’s thought on how difficult it must have been for Harry? Did he care?

“Did he accept your offer to stay this summer?” 

Draco felt his eyes start to burn. What the hell was he supposed to do? What was right? What would make him a good mate?

Merlin, he knew what was right. Keeping abuse secret, for yourself or for anyone else, was _always_ the wrong choice. It was _always_ the wrong choice. But could Draco take that choice away from his mate? Especially since he didn’t know the whole story. Especially when - Merlin strike him down if he was wrong - he wasn’t sure if his Godfather cared. 

“Draco?” 

He looked up to his Godfather’s open eyes. He was sure the mind healer in him was working a million miles a minute, trying to decipher Draco's reaction to a nightmare. But not Harry’s. Merlin, did anyone care about Harry as a person? Or did they just all care about the affects Harry’s problems had on their own lives? 

“He’s thinking about it,” he settled on. “He stays with his Aunt and Uncle, doesn’t he?” 

“I believe he has a cousin around his age as well,” Severus confirmed. “I told you it would be difficult to drag him away from his picturesque family.” 

“They must love him,” Draco said, voice barely above a whisper. He felt like if he spoke any higher than a whisper, the anger knocking at his floodgates would break through. If his fingers weren’t clenched against his thighs, they would’ve been shaking. 

“If you consider showers of gifts and no discipline to be love, then yes,” Severus narrowed his eyes. He said exactly what Draco thought he would. “I suppose Potter is leaning towards staying with them?” 

But, how did he know that? What was his source? Were they trust-worthy? Gifts and abuse can exist together. Severus hadn’t even trusted _Draco’s parents_ at their word. He had insisted Draco went through the same medical scan as every other snake. Who the hell could be watching out for Harry that Severus trusted beyond his own morals, his own best friends, his family? 

“I suppose,” Draco said. “Uncle? Did you know Harry asked Dumbledore if he could stay at Hogwarts over the summer?” 

His Godfather leaned back. “I didn’t.” 

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Draco set his jaw. “For someone so _loved_.” 

“Draco…” 

“May I have the Dreamless Sleep?” Draco stood up. “Ask Dumbledore if you want to know anymore.” 

“I’m beginning to be concerned about you,” Severus stood up and opened the shelf where Draco knew he kept the Dreamless Sleep. The man held the purple vial in his hand for a moment. “You know you may speak to me about any matter, don’t you?” 

“I know,” Draco took the offered potion. He had no doubt about that. “I just need to get this to my mate.” 

Severus nodded. “Did he mention what caused his nightmares?” 

“Do you care?” Draco said before he could stop himself. He wouldn’t usually speak to his Godfather with such disrespect, it wasn’t how he was raised. But he was more Veela than human at the moment and he hated to say his Veela wasn’t a fan of his Godfather. 

_He helped so many children. But not our mate._

He didn’t know. He doesn’t know. 

_Harry would have been a snake if it wasn’t for us. We did this._

Draco didn’t look at Severus’s face as he turned a heel and walked out. Because that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? If Draco had been a _decent_ human being and not insulted Weasley, Harry would be a Slytherin. He would’ve gone through the medical check. He likely would have failed. 

He would have been helped. If Draco Malfoy had been _kind_ his mate wouldn’t have suffered. He wouldn’t have had to live in a home that hated him. He wouldn’t have had to ask the Headmaster to stay at Hogwarts over the summer. He wouldn’t have had to live with a family who didn’t want him. Didn’t Harry get how horrible that is? To live in a home he wasn’t wanted. 

And it was Draco’s fault. 

These thoughts were still buzzing around his head as he stared at Harry’s door. 

Was he even worthy of being Harry’s mate? 

He knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” 

And he did. Harry was in a set of new pajamas that Narcissa chose for him. They fit perfectly and looked rather comfortable. The dark green and gray set hung loosely from his frame, just as it was intended. The highest of the three buttons were undone, just adding to the cozy look. Beautiful. 

“One vial of Dreamless Sleep,” Draco held out the potion. He was trying to keep a light tone, but it was difficult. “For one Harry Potter.” 

“Thanks, Draco,” Harry took the offered bottle. “It’s darker than usual.” 

“I’m impressed you noticed,” Draco walked over to the bed and sat down on the end of it. “It’s simmered for seven minutes instead of the standard ten. It makes it much stronger.” 

“Oh,” Harry pushed his glasses up, squinting his eyes at the potion as if he would notice anything else different. “Will I sleep longer?” 

“No,” Draco put his hands on his knees. “It doesn’t affect your sleep duration, just the presence of dreams. There shouldn’t be any dreams strong enough to overpower that potion.” 

Harry was nodding and he placed the bottle on the nightstand. Draco was looking down, but he still noticed Harry approaching him.

“Draco? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Harry,” Draco looked up and attempted a smile. 

“You don’t look fine,” Harry took a seat next to him. “Is it about this morning?” 

“Yes.” 

“What can I do?” 

“Stay with me,” Draco said honestly. “Let me make this up to you.” 

“You didn’t _do_ anything, Draco.” 

“Yes, I did,” Draco’s voice wavered, but he couldn’t help it. His magic and emotions were not his own. “If I had just been _nice_ , you would be a Slytherin.” 

“So?” Harry was looking at him with those big green eyes. “Doesn’t mean anything would be different.” 

“But it does,” Draco held his forehead in one hand. “My Godfather does a medical assessment of every first year in Slytherin. Even me. He scans for abuse.” 

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry shifted, their legs nearly touching. “You have _no idea_ if that would’ve changed things.” 

“Can you honestly tell me you would have passed?” 

Harry was silent and Draco appreciated not being lied to.

“I know what abuse is, Harry,” Draco told him. “My father fights for policies to lessen it every day, my mother works directly with these families, my Godfather is the safe haven for these kids at Hogwarts. And after all of that, I still couldn’t help my own mate.” 

“I’m not…,” Harry breathed out in frustration. “That’s not my situation.” 

“You can’t even say the word, can you?” 

“It’s _my_ business.” 

“You are _my_ mate.” 

He could feel Harry’s anger bubbling up between them. “I’m taking a walk.” 

Draco said nothing as Harry stormed out, only pausing to grab a coat. How was he supposed to fix this?

He wished he had all the answers. He wished that being a Veela granted him the answers. He wished that Harry wasn’t in a bad situation, that he was the spoiled little brat everyone thought he was. But he also knew this was part of the process. The slow path of information. The little hints that spilled from Harry’s pockets. It had been the same with Blaise. 

Even though his heart already ached, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the calm before the storm.

And what could Draco do? He felt the burning in his eyes give way and he began to cry. 

___________________________ 

Harry threw another rock onto the frozen lake, watching the ice crack beneath the burden and water bubble up at the wound. The cold air bit at every exposed part of skin and the wind whipped around his hair and clothes. Somehow the cold felt crueler than it did when Draco took him out. 

Draco. 

He should have _fucking_ known that Draco being a Veela would affect his reaction. He should have _fucking_ known to keep his goddamn freak mouth shut. 

But he was the resident idiot. Not a savior or a hero - a joke. A pathetic one at that. 

Now Draco had it in his head that Harry was some damsel in distress - some poor abuse victim for his lawyer parents and teacher Godfather to fix up nicely. That Harry’s life was the product of Draco being an asshole once. He couldn’t even be _angry_ at Draco like he wanted to be. Because Draco had done nothing but pity the both of them - which was something he couldn’t help. And with some sort of sick satisfaction, Harry was glad that Draco didn’t know a _fraction_ of what his life was like. What kind of hell it had become. 

“You’ll thaw the lake out early that way.” 

Harry turned around to see Lucius behind him, leaning on his trademark snake cane. Harry was going to start avoiding lakes from then on - apparently it was his weakness to be snuck up on at lakes. 

“Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize,” the elder Malfoy walked over to him. “It’s late for a walk.” 

“I guess,” Harry’s eyes flickered to him. “You’re out too.” 

“Fair point,” he said. “Yet it’s very nice out.” 

“Yeah?” Harry shivered slightly. Was he really talking to Lucius about the weather? “I thought it was pretty cold.” 

“Veelas enjoy the cold a bit more than humans,” Lucius said, again making Harry regret not reading that book. How many more Veela fun facts were out there he didn’t know about? “Harry? May I have your attention for a moment?” 

“All yours,” Harry told him. 

“A story,” Lucius said. “Walk with me.” 

“Okay,” Harry fell into the slow steps of the Veela. He couldn’t help but be curious. 

“When I was eleven years old, I met a lovely young girl by the name of Narcissa Black.” 

Was Lucius telling him the story of how he and Narcissa started dating? Why? 

“She was intelligent, extremely well-spoken, and well, beautiful,” he continued with a wistful smile, his footsteps crunching in the snow. “Yet, even though we were both in Slytherin, we never became friends. There was just… never the right opportunity. I began dating a girl, Melody Hencrank, in fourth year. My parents approved of her family, and I thought it was likely I would marry her. I supposed I loved her.” 

Harry’s eyebrows pinched. Where was this going? 

“Then, in my last year of Hogwarts, I had a Defense Against the Dark Arts class with that lovely young girl again. I was in a relationship, so I tried not to let my eyes drift over to her,” Lucius smiled there. “But it was quite difficult. We were learning an advanced set of shielding charms that day and my partner - Randall Blackwell - didn’t seem to like me very much. He threw a _reducto_ at my shield.” 

“That could’ve killed you.” 

“Very much so,” Lucius agreed. “And Blackwell was expelled, but that’s not the point. The point is, before I was blown back against the wall, I heard Narcissa call out my name. But… it sounded so different. Different from any other time I had heard my own name said. She became feverish on the spot and we were taken to the hospital wing together. We inherited at nearly the same time, myself just a day after her.” 

“That’s… sweet,” Harry said as they came to a stop. Seeing a mate get hurt could trigger an inheritance, Harry had read at least that much from the book. 

“Yes, but you must understand what happened the first time I saw her after that,” Lucius shook his head. “It was as if the world made sense. If the philosophy my classes had taught me had never been needed to put life into perspective. I would - and still would - do anything for that woman. My life stopped being my own and it became hers. A person’s greatest gift - the time that composes their life - and I handed it to her without a second thought. I… I didn’t even see her beauty anymore, or her intelligence or her wise words. I didn’t need any of those things. I just needed her. Even if she never spoke another word, even if I were to never lay my eyes on her, my love wouldn’t have been diminished.” 

“And that… that’s how Draco feels?” _About me_. 

“Yes,” Lucius said, his voice grave. He bowed his head for a moment, before looking up once again. “I believe I owe you quite an extensive apology, Harry.” 

“What?” 

“You freed one of my elves,” Lucius closed his eyes. “And I threatened to kill you.” 

“It’s fine,” Harry mumbled. What was the big deal? 

“It most certainly _isn’t_ . You must understand… Harry Potter is a household name in the Wizarding World. Unfortunately, I believe it allows people to think of you as… older than you are. I think about it now. You’re my son’s age and I made you believe I was going to kill you,” Lucius looked stricken. “I made a _child_ fear for their life.” 

“I…,” Harry trailed off. When it was put that way, it did sound pretty bad. But Harry hadn’t been shaken up about it or anything. As it turns out, he was never actually in any danger. 

“The Malfoys are now on the side of the light on paper,” Lucius said. “There will be an increase of danger… but know that I will do everything in my power to protect my family. Which includes you.” 

Harry swallowed. “I swear I’ll find a way to defeat Voldemort.” 

Lucius flinched ever so slightly at the name, his eyes jerking to Harry. If anything, the man looked startled. “You most certainly will not.” 

“Huh?” Harry turned to him. What was he on about? 

“Harry,” Lucius was looking at him like he was insane. “You’re a child. This isn’t your war to fight.” 

“But…,” Harry shook his head. “Voldemort’s after me.” 

“Yes,” Lucius said. “All the more reason you need extra _protection_.” 

“I won’t drag Draco into a fight, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“It isn’t. I’m worried about you.” 

Well… that was certainly new. Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was used to pledging promises of a victory he didn’t truly believe in. He was not used to other people offering to protect him. Or tell him he wasn’t meant to fight in this war. Because from the moment he knew about it, this war had always been _his_ war. 

“By proxy,” Harry mumbled, his breath visible in the cold air. 

Lucius paused for a moment, like a leader thinking over an answer that would be both true and polite. “I disagree.” 

“Look,” Harry sighed. “I’ll tell Draco you apologized to me or whatever. I’ll tell him you told me this nice story about you and his mom. Okay? Just stop pretending.” 

“Would you accuse me of pretending to love my grandchild, if Draco was to ever have one?” 

Harry’s anger was seized by the unexpected question. “What? I mean, no… it’d be your grandkid.” 

“Exactly,” Lucius closed his eyes very briefly. It could have been a long blink, but Harry didn’t think it was. “You have _always_ been my son’s mate. You are not family because _he_ chose you. You are family because _magic_ tied you to the Malfoy line through my son. It would be the same if Draco had a child.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to do with this knowledge. He wasn’t sure if there was anything to be done. 

“I’m not a blind man,” Lucius continued. “You are an extremely powerful wizard, Harry. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” 

“You were there,” Harry realized, a cold feeling in his stomach. “That night in the graveyard. You were there.” 

“No,” Lucius shook his head. “But I did see it. Through the eyes of others, Harry, and I… Well, I was impressed and dismayed.” 

“Then you know I _can_ fight.” 

“Most certainly. But I’m hoping to fight this war in a way you won’t need to. His support is dwindling. We’re forcing him into a corner.” 

“How?” Harry asked, not used to information about adult’s tactics shared so easily. 

“The Dark Lord’s selling point was twofold,” Lucius turned to him. “It was that he was powerful and that power lies within the purity of one’s bloodline. You disprove his entire message - a powerful, muggle-raised child with a muggle-born mother who defeated him as a baby. You make his supporters uneasy.” 

“That’s good, though,” Harry shifted his eyes. “Isn’t it?” 

“It is and it isn’t. What I can tell you is that this war is far from over and you are far from danger. Severus tells me there is restlessness among the Inner Circle since I left. And I…,” Lucius rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Just know that I will do everything I can to keep you and Draco from all of this.” 

Oddly enough, Harry believed him. He didn’t think it would be possible, seeing as he had won a permanent spot on the top of Voldemort’s kill list. But he believed Lucius would try this best to keep Harry away from the fight. 

And that was the problem. Harry _needed_ to fight this war. Without this war, his life meant nothing. His suffering meant nothing. The lives lost standing in front of him meant nothing. Sirius’s prison sentence, his parents’ death, Cedric's death… he would show them that it hadn’t been in vain. He had to fight. 

But he kept silent. It was a practiced skill and Harry fell into it easily. He allowed Lucius to pledge this promise of family and protection. Harry wondered if this is what having a family felt like - keeping the truth to yourself and letting them believe everything was going to be okay. 

“I believe you,” Harry said, because it was the only truth he could say. 

__________________________________________________ 

“Severus, where in _Merlin’s_ name have you been?” Amaryllis hissed as he entered the worn down castle. “Our lord will arrive _any minute_.” 

Amaryllis was the most tolerable of the Inner Circle. She was the orphaned daughter of Ester and Charles Gerablethorn, well-known supporters of Voldemort. Once they died, she was given a position by default because her family and because of the amount of money she regularly poured into the cause. 

She was tolerable because she didn’t particularly care about anything. She was just where she was and she didn’t care enough to change it. Her only drawbacks were the over emphasis she put on certain words, her disregard for grammar, and her commitment to punctuality. 

“I am aware,” Severus glared at her. 

“You were with _Lucius_ the other day, yeah?” 

“Hm. I did have the unfortunate duty of spending my holiday with the traitor.” 

“Poor bastard ain’t even know what he’s done,” Amaryllis shook her head. “You think Draco’ll come around?” 

“He’s a smart boy,” Severus growled. “As long as I’m there to influence him, he’ll be within the Inner Circle by the time he graduates.” 

“Our Lord will be pleased,” Amaryllis acknowledged. “Merlin, I _need_ a cigarette.” 

Before Severus could respond or Amaryllis could dig out a cigarette, the two came about the Inner Circle’s table. Everyone was seated already, a noticeably empty chair where Lucius would have been sitting. 

No one’s eyes drifted to that seat. 

Just as Severus took a chair, a coldness protruded through the stone room. The door swung open without any hand touching it. The sound of scales against stone hit their ears only seconds before Lord Voldemort came into view. 

Severus was careful with his expression. How fall this Lord had fallen. His face was a twisted, disfigured mess of the handsome features it once had. More snake than man. More beast. The snake following at his feet paused just before his feet stopped. 

The Death Eaters rose in respect. Voldemort scanned over their faces, his reptilian eyes lingering over Lucius’s chair. Before anyone could react, Lucius's chair was blown back and shattered into the wall. Several soldiers flinched. Severus just managed to hold steady. It had always been what impressed Severus the most about Voldemort - his wandless magic was unparalleled. 

Voldemort sat and the Circle followed suit. 

“My loyal followers,” Voldemort’s eyes swept them. “If still, you are.” 

Pledges of fealty rang through the room, only halted by Voldemort holding up a hand. 

“Severus.” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Are you at my service?” 

“Without question, my lord.” 

“Truly?” Voldemort leaned back in his chair. “Tell me why.” 

Severus paused just momentarily. This wasn’t a question he had prepared for. “I am your loyal servant, my lord.” 

“Yes,” Voldemort snapped, narrowing his eyes. “As I thought _Lucius_ was. I believe I have neglected to give my most loyal servants the fruits I had promised, so many years ago. Do you remember my promises, Severus? Do you remember my power?” 

“I remember,” Severus nodded solemnly. 

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort murmured. He spoke the name as if it didn’t belong to a boy, but to a storm. “I underestimated him.” 

A restlessness went through the Death Eaters. It wasn’t often their lord made such claims. 

“I felt…,” Voldemort breathed out slowly. “When I rose, I felt the boy’s power, just a _taste_.” 

“Surely!” The idiot known as Goyle spoke out. “Surely, my lord. Surely not as powerful as you! He is but a boy!” 

“Silence!” Voldemort did not yell. He never had to. “Do you remember, my loyal followers? I have fought Madam Avextres and slain her!” 

A cheer rose and Severus forced his hands to clap. Madam Avextres had been a damn good witch. 

“I have killed Rylen Doltrotle where he stood!” 

Cheering. 

“Belkyra begged for my mercy!” 

Roaring. 

“I have stood against _Albus Dumbledore_!” 

Several Death Eaters were now standing. 

“And…,” Lord Voldemort’s voice turned as dark as his magic. “I have _never_ felt power such as Harry Potter’s.” 

The silence was overpowering. Severus himself felt his blood run cold. Surely Potter couldn’t have been that… powerful. He barely passed his classes! 

_I was the same way. I was like, seven, I think. It sucked._

The way he had said it… so offhandedly. Not bragging, just joining the conversation. When that kind of magic should not have ‘sucked’ for a child of seven - it should have _extinguished_ their magical core. Could he have been telling the truth?

“He…,” Voldemort bared his teeth. “The boy resisted my Cruio. He resisted my Imperious. He survived the sentence of death I bestowed upon him.” 

Wait. Potter had been put under a Cruio and an Imperious? When? Lucius hadn't mentioned that... no one had. Could it have been before the graveyard?

“No longer shall we underestimate this enemy,” Voldemort said. Then, a smile stretched along his white face. “Make no mistake, my loyal followers. I will kill Harry Potter. He is powerful, that child. And he will fight. He will give me a battle deserved by a lord as great as your own… he is mine and mine alone. We have a lot of work to do, my dearest friends.” 

Clapping again bounced off the stone walls. Severus could not help the shiver that ran down his spine. This was not good. 

Not at all. 

“Tough fucking kid,” Amaryllis said from his right, her hands still clapping. “I saw him fucking _stand_ under an Imperious.” 

Severus couldn’t get back to the manor fast enough. In one aspect, Voldemort was absolutely right. There was a lot of work to do. 

_________________________________ 

The anger had all but drained from Harry’s veins when he made his way back to his room. Draco wasn’t there, but he didn’t expect him to be. He just stood there, staring at the empty spot Draco had been sitting. 

He wondered if someone’s destiny could change. 

He wondered if _magic_ could change its mind. 

He wondered if hope could still have a home in his heart. 

He stared at the bottle of Dreamless Sleep on the nightstand. Could he hide forever? He used to think he could. But… that was when he had been alone. Just an unwanted orphan with a couple of school friends and a godfather he barely knew. 

_You can’t even say the word_. 

He didn’t know why Draco’s comment bothered him so much. He could say the word. He just didn’t because it wasn’t… well. Harry sighed. 

Harry set the bottle down. His feet took him to Draco’s room. 

Draco’s voice answered after the first knock, but Harry had also expected that. Draco loved him, didn’t he? Wasn’t all this a part of love? 

Draco’s eyes were red, as if he had been crying and hadn’t bothered to fix himself up. He was sitting on his sofa-thing, but still fully dressed. He had a book open on his lap. “Hello, Harry.” 

“Draco,” Harry closed the door behind him, fully stepping into Draco’s room. “We need to talk.” 

“Of course,” Draco said softly. “I’m sorry. I was forceful with you earlier.” 

Harry laughed just a bit. “If someone had told me a few months ago that Draco Malfoy would be apologizing for being too forceful with me, I would have thought they were mad.” 

“Things change, I suppose.” Draco paused. “I’m quite glad they did.” 

“So am I,” Harry took a seat next to Draco. Not close enough to touch him, but it was a near thing. “I guess I’m starting to realize things really _are_ different now. They… can’t go back to the way they were. And I… I wouldn’t want them too.” 

Draco breathed out shakily. “That’s… good.” 

“You were right,” Harry looked away from him, fear clawing up at his heart again. “About… fuck, Draco. About everything.” 

“I know,” Draco said simply. “Harry…” 

“I don’t want to go back there, Draco,” Harry's voice broke on his name. His confession was quiet, not unlike a child’s. 

“Then you _never will_ ,” Draco voice was strong and Harry - by Merlin, he knew it was dumb - but he let himself believe him. 

“There’s… uh, there’s more,” Harry wiped his sweating hands over his robes. “More than I told you.” 

“I would’ve been surprised if there wasn’t.” 

He felt Draco cool fingers very gently brush his chin to look him in the eyes. Harry followed willingly. 

Draco’s face wasn’t what he thought it would be. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t sad. It wasn’t embarrassed or awkward. If anything… if anything there was… pride shining in Draco’s silver eyes. And for just a moment - and what an odd moment it was - Harry wanted to kiss him. He didn’t. He didn’t even really _want_ to actually kiss him. It was just that the thought, the urge, passed through his mind. 

He smiled lightly instead. “I don’t want anyone else to know.” 

“We don’t have to deal with any of that right now,” Draco said. “You’ll stay with me because I’m your…” 

“Mate,” Harry said firmly. Remember Blaise’s words. They felt so old now. _What are you to him?_ “You’re my mate, aren’t you?” 

“Until you’ll have me no longer,” Draco smiled, his eyes shining. “Are you tired, Harry?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Excellent. How would you feel about losing a few rounds of Quidditch?” 

Harry smiled back. “I’ll get the Windhawks, Malfoy.” 

“You’re going down, Potter.” 

“Ferret.” 

“Scarhead.” 

Harry, beyond what he knew was possible, appraised the outlet of blowing off some steam in a late-night game of Quidditch. The Windhawk nearly took his feet out from under him and Draco actually did fall once, luckily from only a couple feet. But soon enough, they were both soaring in the air faster than they ever had. 

And if Harry took his turns a little too harshly and Draco completely ignored his left, neither boy commented on it. 

_____________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there's the first chapter! Hopefully I'll have the second one up soon, let me know what you think!


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